













\jiuuu 

1 

Rook i 

tA '6(cZl4- 

Gopight N 

0 O ouWL. 


CQFmiGHT DKPOBLt ^ * i, 2m 

r ? 




. 













JAMAICA ,r GINGER 


* 




He darted forward as Black Pearl came abreast 

Page 112. 


I 


I 


JAMAICA “GINGER” 

A Boy of the Days of Clipper Ships 


y 

G. G.‘ MARTIN 


Illustrated by 

HAROLD CUE 



> ) ) 


BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


C L 

■I 


"S . 


X. o. 









{ 



Copyright, 1928, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 
All Rights Reserved 
Jamaica “ Ginger ” 


* * 
• • 


Printed in U. S. A. 


SEP 1.9 iQ?3 



©Cl A1054592 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Kingston Wharf . . 9 

II. “ Good-bye, Jamaica ” . 22 

III. The New Bond-Boy . . 34 

IV. Jamaica “ Ginger ” . .45 

V. Ginger Learns His Let¬ 
ters .60 

VI. A Mysterious Conversa¬ 
tion .75 

VII. Ginger Hears Some 

Golden Sentiments . 90 

VIII. An Invitation to Tea . 105 

IX. Christmas Guests . .117 

X. Ginger’s Christmas Pres¬ 
ent .130 

XI. Ginger’s New Job . . 147 

XII. Secret Trade . . .159 

XIII. The Silver Wing Sets 

Sail.170 

XIV. The Slave-Runner . . 180 

5 



6 


CONTENTS 


XV. Ginger Makes Up His 

Mind . . . .189 

XVI. The Hidden Lagoon . . 199 

XVII. Ginger Escapes . . . 209 

XVIII. Back in Kingston . . 219 

XIX. The Old Life Again . . 227 

XX. Ginger’s Dreams Come 

True .... 243 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


He darted forward as Black Pearl 

came abreast (Page 112) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“ ‘ Sir,’ to me! ”.26 

Low voices coming from the other 

side of the maples halted him . 74 

“ Ef it ain’t Auntie’s Ginger! ” . . 220 


7 


\ 












I 


/ 







V 






JAMAICA “GINGER” 


CHAPTER I 

KINGSTON WHARF 

UNDER the hot Jamaica sun dozed the 
port of Kingston, brilliant with tropic 
colors under the bright sky, oozing heat and 
somnolence from every pore. Not the least 
bright object on a wharf crowded with 
color was a matted red head, nodding 
against the shadow of a barrel. The head 
belonged to a lad clad in a ragged shirt and 
trousers, no shoes, hat, coat, or other ap¬ 
parel to keep the sun from scorching a body 
already as brown as though it had fallen 
into a big pot of coffee. He sat slumped 
on the edge of a bale of goods, hands in his 
pockets, alternately dozing and gazing out 
to sea with half-awake blue eyes, his feet 

resting on a small bundle in a knotted scar- 

9 


io JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

let bandana. A young ragamuffin, except 
that his face had a pleasant open cast gen¬ 
erally uncommon among the hardened 
youths who hung around the wharves. 
After a while he roused, yawned, and look¬ 
ing seaward again saw that the white square 
of sail which he had watched nearly all the 
morning was rapidly nearing the entrance 
to the harbor. Shading his eyes from the 
shining reflection everywhere, he stared 
steadily, then gave a loud whistle. 

“ Bound here all right, and if it isn’t the 
Silver Wing, I’m a tattooed maroon!” 
With which exclamation, the boy swung 
the little bundle upon his shoulder, al¬ 
though the vessel would not dock for nearly 
an hour yet. Wide-awake now, he turned 
and surveyed the land that had been his 
home up to that day. 

The clustered houses and stores of the 
town looked friendly and attractive now 
that he was about to leave them, and he 
bade a mental good-bye to the inhabitants, 


KINGSTON WHARF 


ii 


one by one, as his eyes travelled over the 
dwellings in sight. There was scarcely a 
soul in town whom he could not call by 
name. 

The month was late February, and spring 
had claimed Jamaica. Palm fronds rattled 
gently in the light breeze, feathery bamboos 
and palmettos and scented flowering trees 
cast shadows doubly refreshing after the 
white dust of the streets. Past the town 
stretched a narrow green plain, and beyond 
the plain, their purple summits hidden in 
clouds, rose the Blue Mountains. 

“ Better look now—for all I know, I’ll 
never see it again.” He saw that the sail 
was much nearer, and it was without doubt 
the vessel that he waited for. 

“ Hi, there, Ginger! ” A lemon-skinned 
mulatto boy with frizzly hair and an assured 
swagger appeared as if by magic from the 
midst of a coil of rope where he had been 
slumbering, and addressed our young friend 
by the only name usually applied to him. 


12 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

“ What you got there? ” he asked, pointing 
to the bandana. 

“ H’lo, Lop! I’m going away! ” Ginger 
announced the fact with much pride. 

Lop’s black eyes rounded. “ Goin’ 
away? ” he repeated, not sure that he heard 
aright. Lop talked with scarcely a trace of 
negro dialect. 

“ I’m bound out for the States,” Ginger 
told him. “ That’s the Silver Wing coming 
in now, and I’m leaving when she goes 
back.” 

“ You’re a-goin’ on old Armstrong’s ship? 
Ginger, you’d better work a plantation; that 
skinflint don’t give his sailors nothin’ to 
eat-” 

“ I’m not going as a sailor. I told you 
I’m bound out—to Mr. Armstrong. I’m 
going to Massachusetts, where I’m to work 
for him there in his home.” 

This information was too much for Lop, 
who first refused to believe it, then rolled on 
the wharf and laughed, his strong white 



KINGSTON WHARF 13 

teeth gleaming like a chalk-line across his 
wide mouth. 

“What’s so funny?” inquired Ginger 
loftily, keeping an eye on the approach of 
the Silver Wing. 

“ Friend, don’t you know you’ll die of 
cold the first day you land? ” Lop squatted 
on his heels and began to rock back and 
forth. “You ain’t never been out o’ Ja¬ 
maica -” 

“ No, but I’m not going to be scared of a 
little cold. Don’t lots of people live there? 
And now I’ll see what snow looks like.” 

The mulatto shook his woolly head. 

“You’ve had a nice soft time,” he said, 
as sagely as if he were Ginger’s grand¬ 
father. “ An’ you ain’t goin’ to like havin’ 
to work. How long was it you stayed at 
the sugar-cane? One day, wa’n’t it? And 
on the coffee plantation where you had such 
a good job? And didn’t Mr. Olden get you 
suthin’ and you run like the plague was 
after you? ” 



i 4 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

“ I’m going to amount to something now, 
Lop.” 

The boy rocked on his heels and con¬ 
sidered this statement. Ginger had spoken 
with unusual energy, and Lop, an old crony 
of his in their half-tramp, half-scamp life 
around the wharves, knew Ginger well 
enough to realize that he meant exactly 
what he said. 

“ I can’t live off of Aunt Mally forever,” 
Ginger went on sturdily, little wrinkles of 
determination gathering around his eyes. 
“ She’s old and lame and has plenty to keep 

herself comfortable, but not me, too.” 

“ You can’t eat none at home, considerin’ 

the pecks o’ stuff you an’ me steals. I’m 
still full o’ the oranges we got off o’ Missy 
Lane’s tree.” Lop rubbed his stomach 
graphically, also ruefully. 

“ I’m sixteen now, and almost a man. I 
want to do something in the world besides 
hang around this old port, fighting and 
stealing.” 


KINGSTON WHARF 


IS 

“ You’ll be killed with work, I tell you. 
You ain’t never done nothin’, an’ it’s hard 
keepin’ at it; you only stayed on the coffee 
three days-” 

“ I know,” interrupted Ginger impa¬ 
tiently. “ But this is different. I’m a 
bondsman to Mr. Armstrong, and I can’t 
run if I want to.” 

“ Tied yourself up for seven years! You 
is crazy! ” Lop rolled his eyes and groaned. 

“You can’t scare me,” laughed Ginger, 
running his hand through his carrot hair. 
“ I’ve got to go now. Don’t you envy me 
all the things I’m to see? ” 

“ Boy, while’s I’m a-layin’ in the shade 
of a nice palmetto, smellin’ jasmine and 
roses and watchin’ lizards scoot around, 
you’ll be freezin’ to death, and choppin’ 
wood or haulin’ water, or maybe worse. 
Work? Give me pizen, first!” 

Ginger only laughed. The Silver Wing 
was docking, and this end of the wharf was 
suddenly alive with sailors, stevedores, and 



16 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

negro slaves, all seeming to be shouting and 
directing, amidst a tangle of unloading 
cargo and a small shipment of sugar to be 
taken aboard. The air was full of the 
mixed smell of sun-touched pitch and 
oakum and salt, and the heavy odors of 
coffee and spices as they laded the vessel, 
and over all, the warm scent of a tropic 
island. The Silver Wing was at the pier 
only long enough to load and unload a 
small part of her cargo—the major part 
of her shipment on this trip was for Bar¬ 
bados, and she was making all speed to 
hoist sail and catch the favorable wind 
which was blowing steadily. Ginger knew 
he did not have long to wait, and he counted 
each bale of goods as it was shouldered 
aboard by the slaves. 

He was going to see the world! To take 
the long voyage from Jamaica to New Eng¬ 
land; to land in a strange country, in the 
midst of new surroundings, new people—it 
loomed in his eyes a glorious adventure, and 


KINGSTON WHARF 


1 7 

he elbowed his way through a group of 
sailors, jumped over a pile of rope, and 
made for the captain, whom he knew well 
by sight. 

A stern-visaged, short-whiskered man, 
Captain Brade was directing the loading 
and unloading, a rope’s end in his hand, 
which he applied liberally to the backs of 
negroes and sailors alike, the while bawling 
out orders at the top of his lungs. Ginger 
waited, and turned to wave a hand to Lop, 
who was watching him. Then he surveyed 
once more the land he was leaving, a little 
feeling of regret mingled with the excite¬ 
ment of the prospective voyage. 

Just sixteen years ago, a ship had sailed 
into Kingston, and among the few who 
landed there were two forlorn passengers— 
a young widow and her baby. She was 
Ginger’s mother, Mrs. Wade, come to live 
with her brother, who owned a small spice 
plantation. Ginger had only a vague recol¬ 
lection of a pretty young woman in white 


18 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

hoop-skirts, who used to brush and comb 
his tightly curled hair and call him her 
little Ginger, “ the spice of my life,” all 
with much happy laughter and petting. 

They had lived in a pleasant vine-covered 
bungalow overrun with flowers, and in the 
drowsy days of Jamaican life Ginger grew 
like a young weed. His mother did not 
have a great deal of money, and she just 
stayed at home most of the time sitting on 
the cool veranda doing fancy-work. Gin¬ 
ger remembered that he used to run up to 
her as she sat there with various treasures 
he had collected—shells and bits of coral 
and strange plants. The recollections of 
that bungalow were not very clear, and he 
only thought of those first years once in a 
while when something reminded him of his 
mother. When he was old enough to run 
away from the confines of the garden and 
explore the streets of Kingston, she died, 
and there was no one left save his old slave 
mammy, Aunt Mally. Of his uncle, the 


KINGSTON WHARF 


i9 

boy knew almost nothing, except that he 
had lost his plantation through neglect in 
operating it, taken to rum, and died over in 
Haiti, whither he had drifted. Ginger’s 
mother freed Aunt Mally just before her 
death, and gave her a small plot of ground 
and a tiny house in which to be comfortable 
after long years of servitude. It was in 
this white stone cottage, with its roof cov¬ 
ered with purple-red bougainvillea, that 
the orphan grew up. Standing on the 
crowded dock above the blue water, he 
moved instinctively in that direction, al¬ 
though he could not see his home. 

Once he had tamed a dove with a broken 
wing, and knocked together a cote for it in 
the logwood tree in his yard; and he had 
sprawled in the heat under the tangle of 
pink begonias and white jasmine, times 
without number, lazily following the dart 
of the tiny green humming-birds. Aunt 
Mally called him “ good-for-nothin’ no¬ 
account,” cheerfully fed him, and saw that 


20 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

he always had at least the minimum of 
clothing—ragged patched shirt and trou¬ 
sers. She gave him the use of a bare room 
with a dried-grass tick on the floor and in 
good-natured indolence allowed all respon¬ 
sibility to end there. 

Ginger had brought himself up on the 
docks, fighting numerous battles along the 
way with those who had made fun of his 
hair, and finally establishing himself, by 
dint of fists and grit, in the respect of his 
associates. It had been a care-free, idle 
life. Nothing to do all the long sunny day, 
one day after another, if he chose, save sit 
on a bale of goods and watch the vessels 
drop anchor and lower sail for their visit. 
He knew them all, just as he had a speak¬ 
ing acquaintance with all Kingston, from 
the wealthy planters down to the half-naked 
black babies who filled the slave quarters. 
It was a sort of sociable way he had, and 
something in his character, which he never 
stopped to think about, and could not have 


KINGSTON WHARF 


21 


understood if he had, that kept him aloof 
from the vicious or dangerous associates to 
be met with in such a port. He could sit 
and discuss trade with a pimento planter as 
easily as he could play jokes with Lop. It 
was due to this variegated acquaintance that 
he learned to talk better than the hangers-on 
at the docks, and his conversations with 
friendly well-to-do citizens gave him a gen¬ 
eral knowledge that helped him to feel on 
an equal footing with almost any one. 

It was over now, and he was going to 
New England, for seven years, at least. It 
was all very sudden—the message from 
Obed Armstrong, ship-owner, that Ginger 
was a distant relative, and would have a 
chance in the world if he bound himself out 
to him as his servant for seven years, the 
customary length of time. 


CHAPTER II 


“GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA” 

A WEEK ago, Ginger had been standing 
at the entrance to a Spanish patio—a square 
courtyard in the center of the dwelling. This 
had once belonged to a well-to-do Spaniard, 
but it had long been used as a tavern for 
sailors, because of its nearness to the water¬ 
front. He leaned against the immense 
wooden doorway that led from the noisy 
saloon to the square once devoted to flowers 
and a fountain. Now the fountain was dry, 
save for a puddle of rain-water, and only 
weeds and climbing plants pried their way 
between the flags or dangled from the high 
walls. A seaman was sitting on a bench 
playing a banjo and tapping time with his 
feet, while a group of companions listened 
approvingly, occasionally joining loudly in 


22 


“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 23 

the chorus, as the musician struck up fa¬ 
miliar chanteys. From the tavern-bar at 
his back came the fumes of stale rum and 
the sound of voices in many languages, but 
he paid no attention to this background. 
He loved music and was alternately hum¬ 
ming and whistling when his elbow was 
jogged vigorously. 

“ Look here, Ginger, I’ve got something 
for you! ” The speaker was the mate of a 
vessel waiting cargo. 

“ Hello,” greeted the boy. “ Back from 
’round the Horn? What kind of a trip did 
you have? ” 

“ Blast my scuppers! The worst storms 
I ever did see! ” declared the mate, delving 
into one pocket after another. “Wait— 
here—ah, here it is!” He produced an 
envelope heavily waxed with a red seal. 
“ This is for you, Ginger.” 

“ Me! Who from? ” exclaimed Ginger, 
in astonishment, taking the letter and star¬ 
ing at the seal. 


24 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Old man Armstrong, him that owns our 
brig. I was to get it to you personal, and 
there it is. Good luck! I’m of! to find me 
some land vegetables to get rid of that salt- 
beef taste,” and he went on his way. 

Ginger thought for a moment, then left 
the grog-shop and set out down the street at 
a run. He slowed down as he approached 
a large house set back among palms and 
pepper trees, and turning in at the gate, ran 
up to the porch where a banana-planter 
friend of his was lolling in a hammock 
reading the latest gazette from England— 
now several months old. 

“ Good morning, Ginger. In a hurry? ” 

“ I’ve a letter from Massachusetts,” the 
boy explained breathlessly, “ from Mr. 
Armstrong, the ship-owner. Will you 
please read it for me? ” 

The planter took it and broke the seal. 

“ So you’re doing business with big 
traders nowadays, are you?” 

Ginger, innocent of schooling, stood in 


“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 25 

deep absorption while the planter read the 
letter to him. 

“ It’s a fine opportunity, Ginger,” he re¬ 
marked as he concluded. “ You don’t want 
to doze your life away on these wharves, 
and the only chance you’re likely to get here 
is going to sea.” 

Ginger made up his mind to go, attracted 
by the adventure of a new life, and realiz¬ 
ing the truth of the planter’s words. 

Mr. Armstrong had the reputation of be¬ 
ing a hard man, even a miser, and it was 
rather late for him to be thinking of his 
distant cousinship with Ginger’s mother; 
however, this bore but little weight with 
Ginger. 

Into the bandana went a purple handker¬ 
chief, an extra shirt wrapped around a pack¬ 
age of dried fruits—Aunt Mally’s parting 
gifts—a voodoo amulet, a pair of gold ear¬ 
rings, such as pirates wore—the only valu¬ 
ables he had ever possessed—and a battered 
spy-glass which he had salvaged from a 


26 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

wreck. Laden with all his possessions, Gin¬ 
ger was ready to fare forth into the un¬ 
known world. 

Captain Brade saw the last crate go into 
the hold and tossed his rope aside. 

u When’s time to go aboard, Cap? ” asked 
Ginger, stepping forward eagerly to speak 
to the stern-looking shipmaster. 

Captain Brade surveyed the lad with a 
growl under his breath. 

“ So you’re the redhead that’s goin’ to 
Obed Armstrong, hey? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ c Sir,’ to me, or I’ll sink you in Davy 
Jones’ locker! All ready, ain’t you? I’m 
speeding up to get out on this wind, but it’ll 
be a few hours yet before we start; you 
don’t look good for anything to me, but the 
old man’ll handle you.” And he turned 
and strode toward the custom-house to fix 
up his clearance papers. 

Ginger paid no attention to the captain’s 
welcome but, assured that he need be in no 



“ ‘Sir,’ to me!”— Page 26 . 







“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 27 

hurry, continued to watch the dockside ac¬ 
tivity with Lop. 

“ You sure are in a hurry to leave,” said 
Lop, the minute Captain Brade left. 
“ Here you been settin’ all day with that 
bundle, as if you wuz goin’ to hop over the 
ocean in a couple o’ minutes.” 

“Well, I like to watch the Silver Whig 
come in. She’s a tidy vessel—wish I owned 
her.” 

“Yah! You won’t never own nothin’ if 
you work for ole man Armstrong. Don’t 
you know what they say about him? ” 

“ Let’s go back to Aunt Mally’s—I’ve 
got time to say good-bye again.” 

“Ain’t once enough? You’re hungry, 
you mean.” 

“ You’re jealous because you aren’t go¬ 
ing, too. You’ll be poking here all your 
life-” 

“ Friend, I pokes where it’s easy, which 
is more than you’ll do, I’m tellin’ you. You 
sound like the preacher. What for you 



28 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

want to get on in the world? Ain’t plenty 
of food all you want? ” 

“ Maybe, just now,” Ginger sniffed the 
air, hungrily, as they walked back along the 
wharf and into the town. 

“ Somebody’s br’ilin’ fish,” sensed Lop. 

“ Hi—here’s Dell Pinkham’s mule! Get 
aboard! ” Ginger grabbed the flicking tail 
he caught sight of around a corner, and the 
small fat burro stopped and looked around 
in surprise. 

“ Them that don’t tie up their animals 
deserves to have others ride ’em,” Lop de¬ 
clared, letting out a whoop and vaulting on 
the back of the little animal, where his 
friend already sat. 

“ Pull his ears, man! I’ll move his 

tail-” And with much shouting and 

cajoling and dire threats, the little pack- 
mule was made to trot slowly down a palm- 
shaded avenue, his heels kicking up clouds 
of dust. 

Somewhere in the green distance ahead, 



“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 29 

hidden in the tropic tangle, was Aunt 
Mally’s domicile. The boys would prob¬ 
ably have arrived there sooner on their own 
legs, for the borrowed steed stopped every 
few yards and brayed disconsolately, to be 
set going again only by a profuse applica¬ 
tion of ear-twisting and tail-pulling. The 
overhanging palm fronds patterned bars of 
light and shade on the road, and brilliantly 
colored birds flashed back and forth above 
their heads. 

“ Here we are!” shouted Ginger. 

“ Whoa—stop, I say! He’s going past-” 

they slid off and the burro kept right on, to 
their great amusement. 

“ I kin jest see Dell lookin’ for that 
beast,” gurgled Lop. 

At first glance from the roadway, only a 
jungle-like mass of trees and flowers and 
creeping plants that threw out tendrils over 
everything, could be seen; then on a little 
closer inspection, an unpainted fence, 
broken in places, emerged at intervals from 



3 o JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

a mass of cacti, ferns, and climbing roses in 
full bloom; then, buried under logwoods 
and rat-catcher trees, the white stone walls 
of a cottage. The logwoods bore sulphur- 
yellow blossoms, and their strong sweet 
odor filled the air. The rat-catcher trees 
bloomed with rose and lilac clusters of 
flowers, and the roof of the cottage was 
completely out of sight under the weight of 
the bougainvillea. The boys hopped over 
a bright green lizard, sunning itself in the 
middle of the plant-choked path, and 
walked into the house without invitation. 

“ I knowed you’d be back for a bite to 
eat,” fat Aunt Mally greeted them from the 
dark interior. The pleasant odor of cook¬ 
ing assailed them. “Who you got along, 
now? ” 

“ ’Lo, Aunt Mally,” said Lop, seating 
himself on a rough bench. “ Ain’t you glad 
to see me? ” 

“ Good-for-nothin’,” was the old colored 
woman’s only answer to this greeting. 


“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 31 

The interior of the tiny house was dark 
to ensure greater coolness. The room was 
cluttered with a great many kinds of ob¬ 
jects, and a stranger would be liable to fall 
over earthenware bowls and jars, step into 
a wicker basket, tangle himself up in the 
washing, or fall headlong over a basket of 
breadfruit. Ginger and Lop, accustomed 
to the litter, had no such mishaps, and 
chatted about the forthcoming voyage until 
the meal was ready, when their jaws found 
other occupation. Twenty minutes later, 
Ginger bade Aunt Mally good-bye. 

“ For the last time,” he told her. “You’ll 
never see me again, probably.” 

“ Well, honey, don’t you be a bad boy 
and your Aunt Mally’ll know you is all 
right.” 

“ Bye, then; I’ll be going.” 

The two boys set off for the dock, where 
they would idle away the time that re¬ 
mained before sailing. That time came 
soon enough. 


32 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ See you in seven years—maybe! ” Gin¬ 
ger said to Lop, as he prepared to go 
aboard. 

“ Cornin’ back? ” 

“ No telling. I’m off to see the world.” 

The mulatto boy wrinkled his shiny nose. 

“ I don’t envy you none,” he called up, 
but Ginger just waved his hand to him. 

Ginger had watched the Silver Wing 
weigh anchor and sail away many a time, 
and much as he liked all the ships he knew, 
this trim graceful vessel had caught his af¬ 
fection. Mr. Armstrong might treat his 
men hardly, but he kept his ships painted 
and shining until they were a delight to the 
sailor’s eye. Ginger greeted several of the 
crew, whom he knew, then turned again to 
keep an eye on Lop. Spread also before 
him was the panorama of the crowded 
wharf, the tropic-colored town, with its 
background of green trees like a tapestry, 
against which rose the spars and masts 
and complicated interlacings of countless 


“ GOOD-BYE, JAMAICA ” 33 

ropes and bundles of furled sail, and great 
hulls gently rocked by the lapping water. 
The lagoon was calm and blue, a perfect 
harbor, and outside the reefs, breakers rose 
and scattered in plumes of feathery spray. 
A ship with a dolphin figurehead was sail¬ 
ing out, and a British cruiser with its bright 
Union Jack wide in the breeze was riding 
slowly in. 

H Good-bye, Jamaica,” thought Ginger, 
sadly, as the hawsers were cast off, and 
the sails flapped as they caught the breeze, 
and the roar of a popular chantey rang 
out. The Silver Wing was moving, and an 
ever widening strip of water stretched be¬ 
tween Ginger and the docks where he had 
spent all his life. 

u Good luck, Ginger!” yelled Lop, 
waving both arms vigorously. 

“ Good-bye! ” Ginger yelled back. The 
wake of the vessel was making a foamy 
track which would follow him to his des¬ 
tination. 


CHAPTER III 


THE NEW BOND-BOY 

GINGER had never imagined two harbors 
more unlike than that of Kingston which 
he had left, and the one into which the 
Silver Wing was bringing him. Blue seas 
shimmering with phosphorus and played 
upon by the bright yellow argonauts of 
flying-fish, were mysteriously left behind. 
Gone, too, were the sun-filled skies; great 
waves swayed in dark billows on the breast 
of a stormy Atlantic, and the wildly tossed 
spume blinded Ginger’s eyes and almost 
straightened his hair as he clung to a rope 
while the vessel pitched up and down. It 
was fun to watch her prow curve downward 
through the deep troughs, while mottled 
gray-green waters surged up on both sides, 
then roared together again with ceaseless 
shifting and clots of spray. But the sky 

34 


THE NEW BOND-BOY 35 

was a lowered curtain of dingy clouds, and 
where the meager sun looked through, it 
found nothing brighter to light than the 
brown masses of floating kelp, or the winter 
aspect of a rock-bound coast. Ginger was 
wrapped in a friendly sailor’s pea-jacket, 
but he shivered and chattered from the un¬ 
accustomed cold, trying to take in deep 
lungfuls of the briny air to keep himself 
warm. It was lonely and trying for him to 
stay down in the dark forecastle. 

“ Fine mild weather for March,” the 
cook had assured him that morning. Gin¬ 
ger had been sure it must still be the depths 
of winter; he had never dreamed that air 
and wind could be so penetrating. Day 
after day of cold dismayed him as he looked 
forward dubiously to the harsh northern 
climate. 

So this was the new harbor! He had 
been scanning it through his spy-glass ever 
since it had come into sight, pausing every 
few minutes to dry the glass on his sleeve, 


36 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

as the spray dashed high. Salem was much 
larger than he had imagined it to be, but 
otherwise, he was disappointed. After the 
warm colors of Jamaica, the town before 
him was drab and gloom-wrapped, swept 
by raw winds, bordered by a beach of dun- 
colored sand and bare wet rocks. He 
missed the rank, green vegetation, the blos¬ 
soming trees covered with parasite orchids 
and ferns and trailing vines. Those bare 
trees sprinkled among dingy dwellings 
looked as though they were chilled to the 
sap. 

The Silver Wing dropped anchor at last 
in opaque water which washed the limpet- 
covered piles in bottle-green rollers. The 
dock was crowded with onlookers, but Gin¬ 
ger, after a slow glance, thought them all 
singularly uninteresting in their dark win¬ 
ter wraps. In a few moments he found 
himself alone standing in the full sweep of 
the wind, minus the coat, which he had 
been obliged to return to its owner, along 


THE NEW BOND-BOY 


37 

with the woolen rags with which he had 
bound his feet. He wore both his shirts, 
but they were cotton; he was growing 
numb, and his teeth chattered. He looked 
around, trying to fight off the homesickness 
which assailed him, when a man hurried 
forward and gripped his arm. 

“ The bond-boy for Master Armstrong? ” 

“Yes—sir,” Ginger remembered his 
manners. 

“ Come along with me, then. Haven’t 
you any warmer clothes than what you have 
on? Barefoot, too! Better hurry out of the 
wind! ” The man set an example by hurry¬ 
ing for a cobbled street as fast as his legs 
could carry him, and Ginger was only too 
glad to keep pace. 

“I’m John Lang, clerk to Mr. Arm¬ 
strong.” 

Ginger looked at him. His coat collar 
was turned up around his ears, and a wool 
muffler obscured the lower part of his face; 
for the rest, he looked like a rather shabby, 


38 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

inconspicuous individual, the typical sort of 
clerk whom Mr. Armstrong would have in 
his pay. 

“ Regular Jamaican, aren’t you?” went 
on Mr. Lang, slowing down a little as the 
street ascended a slight hill. “ Thought at 
first you’d be a negro, but Master told me 
this morning to bring up a boy with red 
hair.” 

Ginger frowned at the implication of his 
being black just because he came from Ja¬ 
maica, but said nothing. To forget his cold 
legs and feet, he looked about him. The 
scene was novel enough to him. Here were 
large two-story houses set back of bare 
lawns, fenced or hedged, with many win¬ 
dows and large red chimneys. They had 
hurried by some shops which he promised 
himself he would look at another time, and 
they passed more of the darkly clad, bun¬ 
dled up people. What a difference, he 
thought, between their appearance and the 
lightly clad tropic dwellers! He saw no 


THE NEW BOND-BOY 39 

slaves, and he told himself that life here in 
New England did not seem to be the in¬ 
dolent affair it was in the Indies. 

“ You have to keep moving in this cold,” 
he thought, his hands so numb that he was 
afraid of dropping the bandana and per¬ 
haps smashing the precious spy-glass. 

“ How do you like Salem after your West 
Indies? ” John Lang was inquiring. 

“ I haven’t been here long enough,” re¬ 
plied Ginger, not desiring to say what he 
thought of this gray, cheerless town. 

“That’s right; but first impressions, you 
know; man has a feeling about a place when 
he first sees it—least I do. Had my impres¬ 
sions like that-” swinging his mittened 

fist in the air, “ when I clapped my eyes 
here five years ago; same with Boston; same 
with Plymouth. But I make up my mind 
quick.” He gave a sidelong glance at Gin¬ 
ger as though he would add, “ about per¬ 
sons.” 

Ginger shrewdly guessed that the clerk 




4 o JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

was trying to impress him, but the cold was 
boring into him and he was indifferent. He 
hoped they did not have far to go. After 
a while, he began to think of his prospective 
employer. 

“ Is Mr. Armstrong—that is, how do you 
like him for a master? ” he asked. 

The clerk gave the boy another look and 
tightened his muffler, seemingly at a loss 
for words. 

“ Well,” he began, in a guarded tone, 
“ some people say that—er—Mr. Arm¬ 
strong is—er—a trifle close, or as some oth¬ 
ers call it, near; but I assure you I believe 
he is merely cautious—an admirable vir¬ 
tue -” 

“ Oh, you don’t need to be afraid of your 
opinion,” Ginger interrupted scornfully. 
“ I’ll see him soon enough, then I can make 
up my own mind—first impressions, you 
know,” he added with a grin. 

Mr. Lang appeared completely taken 
aback by Ginger’s boldness; his astonish- 




THE NEW BOND-BOY 41 

ment, indeed, being so great that he almost 
stopped short in the middle of the hill. Re¬ 
covering himself, he speeded on, and in 
complete silence they turned up two more 
streets. Here were the houses of the more 
prosperous citizens. Most imposing of all, 
rose a white mansion, surrounded by spa¬ 
cious grounds. Ginger saw that they were 
making for it—yes, this must be Obed Arm¬ 
strong’s home! They traversed a long brick 
walk bordered by empty flower-beds, on 
either side of which stretched vistas of lawn 
and stately elm-trees. Mr. Lang gave the 
knocker three solemn taps and they waited, 
Ginger almost forgetting his cold in the 
interest of the situation. 

An elderly woman opened the door, 
raised her eyebrows when she saw Ginger 
and continued to peer at him with visible 
surprise while Mr. Lang said: 

“ Here is the new bond-boy for Master 
Armstrong, Miss Liddy. It was his instruc¬ 
tions I was to bring the boy here from the 


42 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

Silver Wing, which I have done, I hope 
to his approval.” He bowed and smirked, 
and Ginger scorned him still more. 

“ All right, come in,” said Miss Liddy. 
“ Good day, Lang,” with which rather curt 
dismissal, she shut the door. 

This was the most spacious and magnifi¬ 
cent house the boy had ever been in, and 
walking down the polished floor, he felt, 
for the first time in his life, out of place. 

“ I’m the housekeeper,” Miss Liddy in¬ 
formed him as they entered a large parlor. 
“You’re to call me Miss Liddy. You stay 
here, quiet now, till I see if the Master’ll 
come down.” And she left him standing in 
the middle of the room. 

He did not stand there long, for a fire 
crackled pleasantly on the hearth and he 
hurried to thaw himself out. His feet, he 
held out in turn close to the flames, but 
thanks to the steep hill and the length of it, 
the blood in them was burning, else greater 
misery than the cold would have afflicted 


THE NEW BOND-BOY 


43 

them. Then, feeling better, he eagerly ex¬ 
amined the room. The woodwork was 
white, the walls the color of old ivory, and 
with the long windows made a pleasant 
light. He saw that these windows gave a 
direct view of the sea, lashing the coast 
below and stretching into the distant leaden 
horizon. Every piece of furniture was 
placed carefully—it was all fine dark wal¬ 
nut—and the entire room had an air of care 
and precision, characteristics which had en¬ 
tered but little or not at all into Ginger’s 
training. There were bright samplers on 
the walls, and a rose-and-blue painted screen 
near the hearth, and various pieces of bric- 
a-brac on the mantel and in the corners 
where small tables were placed. He noted 
with interest a jade Buddha, a piece of coral 
such as he had often seen in Jamaica, a vase 
of Oriental workmanship, and a bowl with 
Dutch figures. On the walls hung a num¬ 
ber of portraits, members of the family, he 
supposed. Aunt Mally’s little home had 


44 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

always been in a state of topsy-turvy care¬ 
lessness, and the extreme cleanliness and 
order of this attractive parlor impressed 
him. 

“ I think I should like to own a home like 
this,” he told himself, when a door flew 
open. He turned quickly, eager to see his 
new master, but confronted instead a pretty 
girl of about his own age. 


CHAPTER IV 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

She gave a start at sight of him, then 
closed the door, took a few steps forward, 
and stood looking at him with undisguised 
interest. She was dressed in the daintiest 
white cambric frock with a skirt covered 
with flounces which stood out softly; she 
wore also a lace-edged apron, evidently 
more ornamental than useful, and pretty 
lilac-colored kid slippers. Her face was 
framed in dark curls tied with a silk ribbon 
to match the shoes. 

Ginger had never had any reason to crit¬ 
icise his appearance, but under the apprais¬ 
ing look the girl’s intelligent dark eyes gave 
him, he felt acutely conscious of every hole 
and patch in his inadequate costume. His 
hands and feet expanded in his imagination, 
and in this atmosphere of restrained and 

45 


46 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

quiet colors, his bundle struck him as being 
crude and outlandish. 

“ Who in the world are you? ” she asked, 
finally, moving a little nearer. 

“I’m Ginger—from Jamaica,” he man¬ 
aged to say, though his voice sounded far 
away. 

“ Jamaica Ginger—how funny! ” she 
laughed. “ You’re the bond-boy, then. You 
see, I’m just back from Boston and I didn’t 
know who you could be. Isn’t it very won¬ 
derful to make such a long trip? Were you 
seasick? ” 

Her questions had an eager friendly note, 
and he began to forget how queer he must 
look to her. 

“ There is something new every minute 
aboard ship,” he replied readily, “ and I 
wasn’t sick at all. I’ve been on the water 
around Kingston too much, although the 
sea is much rougher up here.” 

“ I have some beautiful prints of Jamaica 
that Father gave me, but I dare say that you 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 


47 

can tell me all about it—la, how interesting 
to travel! I’ve never been farther than 
Boston.” 

“ It isn’t all fun by any means. I never 
want to see hardtack again.” 

“ I used to be very much dissatisfied be¬ 
cause I wasn’t a boy who could go to sea. 
Of course, I’m grown up now and know 
better.” 

Ginger smiled for answer. Although she 
had the assured air of a young lady, he sus¬ 
pected that she would make quite a jolly 
companion for a girl, but he reflected that 
he was a servant, and she must look down 
upon him as such. 

“ Didn’t you know that it would be cold 
up here? ” she was inquiring. u You must 
be nearly frozen—your nose is still blue.” 

Ginger was glad that she did not know 
how miserable he felt at his appearance, 
but he answered: 

“ These are all the clothes I have.” 

“ Oh! ” She was evidently surprised, but 



48 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

quickly changed the subject. “ That is a 
very pretty handkerchief you have. Is that 
—is that all the baggage you brought? ” 
Ginger laughed at this. “ You must be 
used to rich people,” he said. “ I am only 
a bond-boy, you know, and I’ve always been 
poor. Why should I have anything? ” 

“ Well, I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. 
I’ve spent four years in a seminary and I 
assure you, I am quite bored with life. I 
think you are very interesting.” 

Ginger wasn’t quite sure what “ bored ” 
meant. He could bore a hole in a plank, 
but she was not referring to carpenter-work. 
Deciding quickly not to let a little word 
stop him, he said: 

“ Don’t you say that because it’s consid¬ 
ered fashionable? ” 

“ La, what do you know about fashion? ” 
“ I keep my ears open.” 

“ Then for your edification I shall in¬ 
form you that I am not posing. A life of 
adventure has always appealed to me, but 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 49 

girls are supposed to sit at home and em¬ 
broider. These are my samplers around 
here, and I hand-painted that screen.” She 
waved her hand scornfully at these accom¬ 
plishments. 

Ginger, however, thought them very 
pretty, and said so. 

“ It is nice of you to praise my work,” 
the young lady responded graciously. “ I 
must believe that you have good taste, just 
for the sake of my vanity. I shall tell 
Father-” 

What she would tell remained unknown, 
for Obed Armstrong entered the room at 
this moment. The girl curtsied and left 
him, casting an encouraging smile at Ginger 
as she hurried out. 

Mr. Armstrong was an old man, some¬ 
what lame from the gout, which caused him 
to lean heavily on his stick; but his physical 
disabilities had not affected the active par¬ 
ticipation in his business for which he was 
so well known; and keen-minded as ever, 



50 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

he sat in his offices near the docks, where he 
could look out upon the masts of his vessels 
when in harbor, and there he ruled like a 
despot. 

The master of ships was dressed in rusty 
black, although neatly; his heavy gray hair 
was carefully combed, bushy gray eyebrows 
were knitted in a belligerent frown, and the 
grim lines in which his jaw was set, together 
with the hawk-like nose and open nostrils, 
gave an impression of a stern character 
which would never be swayed by senti¬ 
ment. 

“ This man sure does business for all the 
profit he can get. Over-feeding his sailors 
will never keep him awake nights, so long 
as it means more money,” was Ginger’s 
thought. 

The old man stood now and appraised 
Ginger, who returned his gaze with his own 
steady look, unconscious of the fact that men 
were reputed to lower their eyes before old 
Obed Armstrong’s regard. 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 51 

“ Bond-boy, eh?” greeted Mr. Arm¬ 
strong, in a clear decisive voice. 

He moved toward an armchair, and see¬ 
ing that he limped, even with the aid of 
the cane, Ginger hurried to his side and 
taking his arm, eased him into the chair. 
The action was instinctive, the sort of good- 
natured help he always gave. But it had 
quite an effect on his future, could he have 
known it, for no act, however trifling, ever 
escaped the notice and memory of Obed 
Armstrong. 

Mr. Armstrong did not even thank the 
boy. 

u Stand there in the light,” he directed, 
11 and let me have a look at you. Yes, you 
are my cousin’s boy; all but the red hair— 
your father’s, I believe. I am not aware of 
your name, lad.” 

“ Ginger, sir,” was the prompt reply. 

“ Ginger! That’s not a name! Don’t tell 
me your mother christened you anything 
like that.” 


52 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Arnold, sir—but my mother called me 
Ginger, and so does every one else.” 

“ Well, it sounds better in my ears than 
your father’s name; your father was no 
friend of mine, as perhaps you know.” 

Ginger shook his head. Mr. Armstrong’s 
thoughts, for a moment, dwelt on events 
that had occurred before Ginger was born. 

“ Past and gone now, with many other 
things of youth. If you have wondered 
why I never before took notice of our rela¬ 
tionship, that is the reason. However, your 
mother was a favorite cousin of mine, and I 
have long since ceased to think of her fool¬ 
ish marriage. I need an all-round boy, 
some one to help in the garden, the kitchen, 
the stable, or anywhere as occasion arises. 
I expect you to work hard. I know the 
enervating climate of Jamaica, and the sort 
of life you’ve probably led there. That’s 
behind you now. I allow no shirking and 
hear no excuses for work ill done. Go 
through that door,” indicating with his 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 53 

cane, “ and find the kitchen. Miss Liddy 
will give you something to eat and show you 
where you are to sleep. By the way,” as 
Ginger started to obey the abrupt dismissal, 
“ you are to regard my daughter as your 
mistress. That is all.” 

“ Yes, sir.” And Ginger left the room. 

He found himself in a panelled hall, 
along which were a number of doors; he 
hesitated as to which belonged to the 
kitchen, and was attracted by a ship’s model 
hung against the wall—a carved schooner 
with sails and rigging complete. A door 
opened at the very end of the passage, and 
Miss Liddy looked out. 

“ Come in here,” she called, disappearing 
again. 

Ginger hurried in, took the chair she mo¬ 
tioned him to, by the stove, and sat there, 
still holding his scarlet bundle. 

“ How you ever came to have so few 
clothes!” The housekeeper wondered, 
bustling about and preparing a welcome 


54 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

meal—he was glad of that, for he was ter¬ 
ribly hungry. 

“ We don’t need clothes in the Indies,” he 
informed her. 

“ My stars! I do believe the heat must 
be dreadful! I like cold weather myself, 
but I dare say you won’t for a while. When 
Master first told me about the Jamaican 
who was coming, I thought you’d be as 
black as ebony! I know there’s white folks 
there, but somehow I imagined you’d be a 
native.” 

“ Yes, that’s what Mr. Lang thought.” 

“ Humph! That clerk knows next to 
nothing, or maybe less. Here’s your lunch 
—you can have all you want to eat. Master 
squeezes money but so long as Persis says 
the servants are to be well treated, we are.” 

“ Persis? ” 

“ Mr. Armstrong’s daughter. She’s just 
come back from her school in Boston, quite 
a young lady. Every one loves her—she’s 
been motherless since a baby, and we’ve all 


JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 55 

just kind of adopted her. I’ve been here 
since before she was born, myself. Mr. 
Armstrong is a hard man, I will admit, but 
when it comes to Persis, his heart is like so 
much putty.” 

Ginger heard this with interest, in the 
meantime eating what was set before him 
with the hearty hunger of a poorly satis¬ 
fied sea-appetite. The kitchen in which he 
sat was to him a miracle of order and clean¬ 
liness. Utensils and cutlery such as he had 
never seen or heard of, hung on the walls 
or reposed on shelves. 

“ This is a real home,” he thought. “ I’d 
like to live in a place like this all the time.” 
And with this worthy hope he kept on eat¬ 
ing and observing. 

“ Here comes Caleb with your shoes!” 
announced Miss Liddy suddenly, as she 
passed one of the white-curtained windows. 

Ginger was about to ask for an explana¬ 
tion, but the man entered before he had 
time. 


56 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Caleb tends the stable and gardens,” 
the housekeeper said by way of introduc¬ 
tion. “ Have a sip o’ tea, Caleb? ” and she 
set out an extra cup. 

“ Thanks, Miss Liddy. This the new 
boy? Red head, ain’t ye? I’ll wager ye’re 
good and determined. Here’s somethin’ fer 
ye.” And he dropped a large pair of shoes. 

Ginger had never worn shoes, and he 
looked at them curiously. In any other 
weather he would have refused them, but 
he knew that he could not go about bare¬ 
foot in winter, and tried to resign himself. 

“ Does every one wear shoes as heavy and 
clumsy as these? ” he inquired in surprise, 
surveying his feet after he had put them on. 

“ Ye’ll get used to them,” said Caleb, 
“ and if they’re heavy, ye’d ought to try on 
my big boots; they weighs a good many 
pounds.” 

Ginger essayed to walk, and felt as 
though he were dragging weights that im¬ 
peded every step. 


JAMAICA “ GINGER” 


57 

u I suppose I shall get used to them,” he 
remarked, feeling as awkward as a baby 
calf trying to stand. “ There are going to 
be plenty of other things to get used to,” he 
added to himself. 

“ When ye’re through eatin’,” Caleb 
told him, “ ye are to come with me to get a 
whole outfit o’ duds; Missy runs and tells 
me ye look like a melancholic icicle, and 
I’m to be sure ye has plenty o’ mufflers. 
Ole Master he orders strong stuff as’ll last, 
then ye’ll be all fixed up for the weather. 
This tea be good, Miss Liddy.” 

Ginger gave one fleeting thought to Lop, 
as he had last seen him sitting on the Kings¬ 
ton wharf in the warm sun, far away from 
all this cold and hard work. Then, reso¬ 
lutely putting aside the memory of that easy 
life, he set his teeth and waited for Caleb 
to drink his tea. 

A few hours later, Ginger looked quite a 
different person. He, too, now wore the 
heavy dark clothing suitable to this climate, 


58 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

with a greatcoat, muffler, mittens, thick 
stockings, and a warm shirt in place of his 
white cotton ones. He thought himself un¬ 
bearably bundled up, although it was a re¬ 
lief not to shiver and be miserable in the 
cold, but as he had always worn only the 
fewest possible garments, he felt it would 
take him some time to grow accustomed to 
all these wraps. 

His first task in New England was that of 
chopping wood. He was given an ax by 
Caleb and told to “ chop that pile like this, 
see? ” showing him a sample. Ginger 
looked at the stack, squared his shoulders 
and started in. At the end of hours and 
hours and hours—or so he thought—Miss 
Liddy came to the back door of the kitchen 
and called: 

11 Supper time! ” 

Ginger was strong and sturdy, yet the un¬ 
accustomed work made him more tired than 
he had ever been before. 

“ This isn’t going to be like Jamaica,” he 


JAMAICA “GINGER” 


59 

told himself as he dropped the ax. “ Still, 
I don’t care even if it is hard work—prob¬ 
ably I’ll get to do something better in a 
little while. That’s what Mr. Armstrong 
said in his letter, that I could advance.” 

And realizing now what it meant to be a 
bond-boy, Ginger went into the house for 
supper. 


CHAPTER V 


GINGER LEARNS HIS LETTERS 

GINGER gave the last polish to the last 
lamp and set it with its fellows on the 
kitchen shelf. He blew out one of the two 
candles that had lighted his task, as Miss 
Liddy had directed. 

“ We have to save lights,” she told him. 
“ Don’t you keep more than one going, ex¬ 
cept while you have to.” 

It was long after supper, and Miss Liddy 
was somewhere up-stairs braiding mats until 
bedtime. Ginger had the kitchen to him¬ 
self, and now that his last chore for the day 
was over, he leaned his head on his arms 
and watched the candle shadows flicker up 
and down the dim walls. The house was 
very quiet, and little creaks and whispers 
of sound were magnified. 

Ginger thought of the three months that 

60 


GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 61 

had passed, the months that would come. 
Longingly, he recalled Jamaica, and it was 
like a golden dream in memory. 

“ I wonder why I ever left? ” he asked 
himself in discouragement. “ If I’d stayed 
in Kingston I might have gone to sea—it’s a 
hard life, but I might have become captain 
of my own ship some day. Here, I’ll just 
be the boy who does chores—for seven years 
I’ll be just where I started, and all that 
time wasted. I want to get to do something 
better than this.” 

He had passed his first spring in New 
England. The early warmth of summer 
now filled the air. The lawns were dotted 
with fluffy dandelions, and the apple-trees 
had lost their pink and white bloom. The 
pastel hues of spring had been lovely— 
Salem was all delicate yellows, greens, 
pinks, and blues; the sea was a clearer color, 
and the austere gray of winter had com¬ 
pletely passed. The Armstrong mansion 
looked more imposing than ever, sur- 


62 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

rounded by spacious lawns and fine shade- 
trees. Ginger welcomed the advent of sum¬ 
mer, after the hard cold to which he was 
so unused. 

Mr. Armstrong had provided the new 
bond-boy with plenty of warm clothing, but 
in spite of mufflers and boots, he had suf¬ 
fered all winter from chapped, bleeding 
hands and chilblains. The gray days and 
the chill rains depressed him with their 
gloom, and breaking the ice in a pan of 
water and watching the glitter of frost melt 
as morning advanced, he would recall the 
warm sunrises of Jamaica. He often 
thought of the letter that had brought him 
here. Mr. Armstrong had promised “ a 
chance in the world ”—those were the very 
words—to Ginger, if the boy bound himself 
out in his service. 

“ Rubbing down horses and weeding dan¬ 
delions out of the front lawn isn’t exactly 
what I’d call a big chance,” Ginger thought. 
“ I might have known that old man didn’t 



GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 63 

mean what he said; he drives his men like 
slaves and squeezes every penny he gets, so 
why should he bother to think of a mere 
promise? If I’m to get on, it’s to be by my¬ 
self. Anyhow, thinking about it will never 
get me ahead.” 

Dismissing his reverie, Ginger reached 
for a little bundle, wrapped in the faithful 
bandana. It disclosed two or three ragged 
leaves torn from a primer, a quill-pen— 
Ginger took care of a flock of geese—and 
a horn of watery ink which he had found in 
the attic along with the primer pages, the 
day he was sent to get a cobweb for Caleb’s 
cut finger. Spreading out a piece of brown 
wrapping-paper, his brows knitted in anx¬ 
ious concentration as he proceeded patiently 
to copy the script letters. The candle sput¬ 
tered in a draft and he moved it. 

“ Wonder what Lop is doing now? ” he 
mused, regarding an O which was more ob¬ 
long than round. “ He was right—I wish 
I’d listened to him. There are too many 


64 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

callouses on my hand for me to make these 
letters.” 

But he kept on, encouraged by a graceful 
S that happened to flow from the end of the 
quill. 

“T,U,V -" he read aloud. “I’ve got 

to weed the kitchen-garden to-morrow. 

. . . W —if Mr. Armstrong wasn’t so 
stingy, I’d get it done in half a day, but 
those tools are too old and dull— X, Y . I’ll 
never learn to make a Y” He poised the 
quill above the ink-horn, but his thoughts 
wandered. 

After all, it wasn’t work that he minded— 
none of his tasks was particularly hard, 
although he was kept running from dawn 
until nightfall and often later; it was the 
unvarying round, the monotony, and the 
certainty that he was learning nothing. 

“ How long have I been copying these 
letters?” Ginger demanded of the kitchen 
in general. “ I’d give anything for a chance 
at learning.” 



GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 65 

He thought of the children whom he saw 
going down the hill mornings—some of the 
boys lagged and played by the way, and 
showed every evidence of disliking the im¬ 
posed tasks of the strict old lady who kept 
an academy at the foot of the hill. 

Ginger envied them heartily; his own 
lack of education had been a matter of no 
moment in his life until he came to Salem, 
and here he was ashamed of it. Things 
were different here. 

He loved to watch the sun rise above the 
sea and touch with gold the ships lying in 
the harbor; he would have gone down and 
observed the vessels close at hand, only he 
never had time; but he could watch them 
from the garden or stable, where he worked 
much of the time, and could dream fanci¬ 
fully of owning some one of them that at¬ 
tracted him—the Silver Wing, perhaps. 
She had always been a favorite of his, back 
in Kingston. Then he would reflect that 
he could never become a ship-owner if he 


66 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

could not read and write and do sums. He 
tried making another Y, but it was crooked, 
and he regarded his labors with a feeling 
of utter discouragement. 

“ I’m not getting on,” he said, half aloud, 
and then jumped at the sound of light foot¬ 
steps almost at his elbow. 

“ Oh, did I startle you? You were so ab¬ 
sorbed you didn’t hear me come in.” 

Persis smiled pleasantly, but Ginger 
blushed with embarrassment, and tried to 
cover his clumsy work with his arms. The 
ink-horn, however, could not be included in 
this attempt at concealment, and Persis 
pulled a stool to the table and sat down as 
though she meant to stay there for some 
time. 

“ Tell me what you’re doing,” she asked, 
crossing her feet comfortably and resting 
her elbows on the table. 

Persis’s return from Boston had been the 
beginning of a series of parties and visits, 
apparently unending; she had been away 


GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 67 

three weeks in the country, and another 
four weeks in Boston to buy her summer 
clothes, and off on one excursion after an¬ 
other. Naturally, with all these things to 
keep her from home, Ginger had seen but 
very little of her, although she would some¬ 
times stand and talk with him about Ja¬ 
maica while he was saddling her horse or 
getting the carriage out for her. This 
meant a great deal to Ginger. 

The grown-up airs which she frequently 
assumed rather disconcerted him, however, 
and she always looked so exquisitely neat 
and dainty that he felt his shabby clothes 
and awkwardness the more keenly. 

“ You should never rouse a woman’s curi¬ 
osity,” she said, shoving his elbow aside and 
turning the wrapping-paper and primer so 
that she could see what they were. “ Dear 
me! Are you learning your letters? Don’t 
you know-” 

“No,” replied Ginger shortly, “I don’t 
know anything.” 



68 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

Persis raised her brows and regarded his 
frown with amusement. 

“ You’re over-sensitive, aren’t you? ” 

“ Am I? What do you mean? ” 

“ You shouldn’t be ashamed of anything 
you don’t know, unless you have refused 
a chance to learn. Every one doesn’t have 
the same opportunities.” 

“ Well, I have been ashamed. Here I 
am at my age and can’t write my own 
name! ” 

Persis was examining the primer. 

“You have only four pages here. Wait 
a minute and I’ll bring a better one-” 

She always moved quickly, and before 
Ginger could guess her intention, she had 
run out of the kitchen. He occupied the 
time in which she was gone in mending his 
pen and wondering whether to be glad or 
sorry that she had discovered him in his 
hitherto secret pursuit. 

“ She’s probably right about being 
ashamed,” he acknowledged, reluctant to be 



GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 69 

corrected by a girl. “ I just ought to try to 
learn! ” 

“Now we can do something!’’ said 
Persis in a bright, eager voice, and with a 
triumphant smile, she dropped a pile of 
books, slates, sponges, and chalk on the 
table. 

“ I’ve never thrown away any of my 
school-books,” she explained, settling her¬ 
self once more on the stool. “You might 
as well have them, since they’re of no use 
to me now. I’m glad they’re in good con¬ 
dition,” flipping the leaves of a reader. 
“ And yet, goodness knows I did hate my 
tutor for putting me at columns of figures 
every time I got a blot or a stain on any of 
them.” 

Ginger looked eagerly at an arithmetic, 
and thought that he could learn it by him¬ 
self without any trouble just as soon as he 
could read the explanations and problems. 

“ How can I thank you-” he began 

awkwardly, not knowing what to say. 



7 o JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

“Dear me! Don’t be grateful! You 
know I told you the first time we met that 
I was bored with life. Do you remem¬ 
ber? ” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“ I suppose it did sound funny! And you 
a perfect stranger in a new country—I 
thought about the welcome I gave you after¬ 
ward. I must have made you feel like a 
curiosity on exhibition.” 

Ginger laughed as he quickly answered, 
“ No, you didn’t. And I was a queer¬ 
looking fellow, anyhow.” 

“You know, it was such a good joke! 
That first day I saw you I had been plan¬ 
ning a new pelisse, and I was wondering 
whether to line it with russet or green quilt¬ 
ing; and when I opened the parlor door, not 
thinking at all of any one being in there, my 
eyes rested on your bright red head, and I 
thought, 1 a russet lining, of course ’—and 
then it seemed so funny, and I had no idea 
who you could be.” 


GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 71 

They both laughed at this, and Ginger 
inquired: 

“ What is a pelisse? It sounds like a pel¬ 
ican, but I know it isn’t a bird-” 

Persis giggled at this dense ignorance, 
and finally controlling herself enough to 
explain, said: 

“ It’s a sort of coat. Haven’t you seen the 
nice blue one I brought from Boston with 
the covered buttons all down the front? 
But I forgot—boys never do notice such 
things, and it isn’t ladylike to laugh so 
heartily.” 

“You learn just how to be proper and 
mannerly at school, don’t you? ” 

“ At the seminary in Boston, that’s just 
about all we do learn. My, how we were 
watched! I remember that Abigail See had 
to stand in the corner an hour and a half for 
drinking her tea too fast; and I helped Jes¬ 
sie, the friend I was riding with yesterday, 

do a monstrous list of French conjugations 

• 

when she forgot to turn her toes out. You 



72 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

should be thankful, sir, that you sit here so 
easy. We used to do our lessons with knit¬ 
ting needles under our chins.” 

“ What for? ” gasped Ginger. 

“ So we wouldn’t stoop; if we bent our 
heads, the needles jabbed us in the chin.” 

“ I’d run away,” declared Ginger, un¬ 
consciously feeling his chin. 

“ No, you wouldn’t. We had lots of fun 
to make up for it.” 

“ Miss Liddy said the other day that you 
go to twenty parties a week here, and then 
she started to tell us all about them while 
we were eating—I mean Caleb and I. 
My head was swimming with cotillions and 
ices when I got outside again.” 

“ Dear soul! She’s so interested in every¬ 
thing I do! I always tell her everything 
that’s happened when I get back from a 
visit. It’s been a lovely winter for me, with 
all the entertainments I’ve been to; every 
one is so nice, it seems! But now our social 
life is slackening with summer coming, and 


GINGER LEARNS LETTERS 73 

I shall find lots of dull time on my hands.” 
She paused a moment before going on. 
“Would you like me to help you learn? 
It’s rather hard to start by yourself and I 
have nothing at all to do evenings.” 

“ No, how could I? You have too many 
other things-” 

“ After I just told you I had nothing else 
to do! ” 

“ I’m such a slow pupil-” 

“ You’ve never had a teacher, so how do 
you know? ” 

“ I’d hate the task, myself.” 

“No reason at all why I should; we’re 
different persons.” 

Ginger felt that his arguments were ex¬ 
hausted. While he was trying to think up 
others, at the same time inwardly excited 
over the prospect of really learning, Persis 
spread out a book, two slates, and the ac¬ 
companying chalk and sponges. 

“ You make quite good letters,” she said, 
looking at the alphabetical rows. “ You’re 




74 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

ready to begin on words—now let’s not 
waste time.” And thus Ginger found him¬ 
self on the path that would lead to oppor¬ 
tunity and fortune. Persis was a lively, yet 
patient teacher, and the encouraged feeling 
with which her scholar went to bed that 
night would have been a great joy to her if 
she had guessed it—as perhaps she did. 

Ginger’s room was over the stable, where 
a feather bed on the floor, woolen blankets, 
and one candle comprised the furniture. 
When he left the kitchen that night, he car¬ 
ried the new books and slates which he in¬ 
tended to hoard carefully under the tick. 

“ All I need is a start,” he told himself, 
as he crossed the dark stretch of vegetable 
garden, skirted the poultry-yard and walked 
under the dense shade of the maples in front 
of the barn. Thinking of his lesson, he 
slackened his steps, which made no sound 
as he stepped on the soft dirt of the carriage 
drive. Low voices coming from the other 
side of the maples halted him. 



Low VOICES COMING FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MAPLES 

HALTED HIM. — Page 7J+. 






















. 









■ 








































































CHAPTER VI 


A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION 

“ What's up? ” muttered Ginger, strain¬ 
ing his ears. 

“ I tell you it’ll have to stop one o’ these 
days; this business can’t keep goin’ on the 
way it does.” 

“ Not while the old man counts his gold.” 

“ Gold! Gold! It do give me the shivers 
to hear the groans o’ them poor black-” 

“Sshhh! You’ll be hearin’ your own 
groans if ye don’t watch out. That cargo’s 
got to go through! ” 

“ Ain’t we the men to do it? Nobody 
ever said we was slack.” 

“ No, and we’ve got to be on the jump 
when we work for old Armstrong.” 

“ I’m willin’ to do my share, but I tell 
ye, I didn’t know what I was bein’ let in 

75 



76 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

for. This work don’t set on my conscience 
right.” 

“ Huh! Old man don’t seem to lose no 
sleep over it.” 

“ Him? No—but he ain’t in the middle 
o’ things the way we are; we’re the ones 
that sees what it’s really like; and he jest 
sets and takes the money.” 

The voices blurred as the men moved 
away, and Ginger caught only one odd 
word, “ shackled.” 

He ran on tiptoe to the trees and peered 
cautiously around; he thought he could dis¬ 
tinguish the figures of two men disappear¬ 
ing in the shrubbery that lay beyond, but 
the moon had not risen, and it was too dark 

for him to guess at their appearance. 

% 

Should he follow? He hesitated, then de¬ 
cided not to. 

“ It’s no business of mine, so long as they 
don’t seem to be thieves. They must be 
sailors. What are they doing here at this 
hour of the night? Persis and I sat up 


A CONVERSATION 


77 

late-” Ginger glanced back at the dark 

bulk of the house. There was a light burn¬ 
ing up-stairs in a window which he was sure 
belonged to Mr. Armstrong’s room. 

“ They came to see him and left by the 
back-door. Now why? And they talked 
about his gold.” 

Ginger slowly mounted the ladder to his 
loft, turning the words he had heard over 
in his mind. 

“Whose groans could that man mean? 
They say Mr. Armstrong’s captains are all 
very hard men, and I saw the way Captain 
Brade treated the sailors. This man might 
have meant some comrade of his in 
irons-” 

Ginger considered this a likely explana¬ 
tion, and again, an unlikely one. The treat¬ 
ment of seamen was nowhere much better 
than that given on Obed Armstrong’s ves¬ 
sels, and for a sailor to feel any particular 
sympathy was extraordinary. The puzzle 
impressed him, and most of all that one last 




78 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

word, “ shackled.” It had a sinister sound, 
and he wondered if it had any connection 
with Persists father. “ What cargo is it that 
the man said must go out? It looks as if 
Mr. Armstrong is mixed up in some 
crooked scheme or other; I wonder if he’s 
trying to cheat somebody in his trade? It 
sounds suspicious and mysterious, but still, 
maybe if I knew what it was they were 
talking about, it would be simple. Those 
men were probably just exchanging sea gos¬ 
sip, and maybe it’s not so extraordinary for 
them to leave the house by the back-door, 
since it’s so late. I won’t jump at conclu¬ 
sions. But it sounds queer.” 

Ginger had his bed in a corner where the 
roof slanted down to the floor, and lying 
there, he looked out through a small square 
of window from which he could see the 
stars above the rounded tops of the trees in 
early leaf. He had often thought them 
lonely, and burrowing under the covers in 
the cold, he would long for the pleasant 


A CONVERSATION 


79 

ease and warmth of Jamaica. To-night, in¬ 
stead of the past, he saw the future. 

“ I’ll soon be able to read!” he mur¬ 
mured as he fell asleep, forgetting the 
broken bit of conversation he had over¬ 
heard. 

The very next day, Ginger was reminded 
of what he had heard back of the house, and 
a little more light was shed on what the two 
sailors were talking about. It was not often 
that Ginger got away from the house and 
garden, for he was needed there nearly all 
the time, and at first he suspected Miss 
Liddy had thought it best to keep him 
“ right to hum,” as Caleb said. She knew 
that Ginger was an orphan, and she had 
been secretly fearing to find a sulky, diffi¬ 
cult, and wayward boy on her hands. But 
it was not long before his dependable and 
steady ways relieved her, and she began to 
send him on all kinds of errands which she 
had formerly done herself. 

“ Caleb never brings the right things, no 


80 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

matter how I warn him over and over 
again,” she would say. 

This morning, Ginger went down into 
Salem to order corn-meal and oats and feed 
for the chickens at the dark barn-like store 
where everything seemed to be sifted over 
with various grains, and where there was a 
powdery, mealy dust in the air. Having 
given his order, Ginger did not hurry back, 
for it happened that he had nothing to do 
at the time—it was mid-afternoon and Miss 
Liddy was taking a “ cat-nap,” as she called 
it. 

“ I’ll just take a look at the docks,” he 
thought, irresistibly drawn to the ships at 
anchor. He had few spare moments for 
lingering by the sea as he loved to do, and 
he looked about him eagerly. A case of 
spices from the far East had been broken 
in unloading, and the whole air was filled 
with the pungent odor. How vividly that 
smell recalled Jamaica! He could almost 
see the trees, loaded down with blossoms, 


A CONVERSATION 


81 


breathing that fragrance all around. Gin¬ 
ger had not wandered about long before he 
fell in with some illuminating conversation. 
He had leaned up against a great pile of 
cordage, not feeling that he had time to sit 
up on top of the coiled hemp, as he would 
have liked to do, for the air was soft and 
balmy, and the water, even here close to the 
docks, rippled in blue waves. Two boys 
about his own age were standing a few feet 
away, watching the unloading of the spice 
cargo, just as he was. Ginger had not no¬ 
ticed them particularly, for he was eagerly 
scanning the activity down at the end of 
the wharf. Then he saw that they had 
strolled toward him, and the foremost boy 
nodded and asked : 

“ Do you know the Silver Wing when 
you see her? We’ve been talking of her, 
and Joel here says she’s not in yet.” 

“ No, she’s not,” promptly returned Gin¬ 
ger. “ I know the Silver Wing as well as I 
Ido my own face.” 


82 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ I thought maybe it was that ship out 
there,” said the other boy named Joel, a big 
lumbering fellow with a good-humored but 

dull-looking face. “ That there-” he 

pointed out at a vessel whose name was hid¬ 
den by another ship moored alongside her. 
“ We can’t see the hull from here, and I 
thought mebbe that was the Silver Wing ” 

Ginger shook his head emphatically. He 
began to point out to them the difference be¬ 
tween the clipper they were looking at and 
the vessel which had brought him to Salem 
and which he knew so well. 

“I think that’s the Belinda B. Tuttle,” 
he said, “ that sails around the Horn. I’m 
not sure, but it looks like her. She’s a tub 
compared to the Silver Wing ” 

The two boys were much impressed by 
his nautical knowledge, and they began to 
chat. 

“ Zed says the Silver Wing is the best 
ship old Armstrong owns,” volunteered 
Joel, nodding his head at his friend, a thin 



A CONVERSATION 83 

wiry boy with many freckles and a good 
suit of clothes which proclaimed him to be 
quite well off. 

“ She is,” agreed Ginger warmly. 

“ Armstrong don’t run his blacks on her, 
that’s why,” remarked Zed. 

“ Run what? ” echoed Ginger. 

“ He don’t pack her full 0’ slaves the 
way some o’ these men do. There’s a fellow 
right here in Salem runs black cargo from 
Africa to the Indies, to Jamaica, and his 
boat is a mess. They’ve got the toughest- 
looking crew you ever saw.” 

Ginger suddenly remembered the conver¬ 
sation he had overheard the night before. 
He recalled the words rapidly in his mind 
—could they apply to slave-running? 

“ I never heard of any of that business be¬ 
ing done by a Salem owner,” he said, 
“when I was in Jamaica. That’s where I 
came from, and I used to know pretty near 
everything that went on.” 

“ There is a slave-dealer here, though,” 


84 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

declared Zed. “ I daren’t tell his name; but 
my father knows about it. He buys the 
blacks from the Mohammedans over on the 
African coast, and he dumps ’em down 
around Port Royal.” 

“ Oh, well, I’m from Kingston.” Ginger 
knew quite a bit about the trade. It was a 
wretched business for any ship-owner to en¬ 
gage in, he thought, although he himself 
had been brought up in a country where 
slave labor was a matter of course. 

“ I bet he don’t run them into the States, 
though,” spoke up Joel, who appeared to be 
a slow thinker. 

“Yes, he does, too,” retorted Zed. “ It’s 
against the law, but he sneaks his cargo 
where they want the laborers.” 

Ginger thought again of the sailors, the 
word “ shackled,” and the phrase, “ the 

groans o’ them poor black-” had he 

meant black slaves? 

“ Does Mr. Armstrong go in for any of 
that? ” he inquired offhand. Zed spoke as 



A CONVERSATION 85 

though he knew what he was talking about. 
Noticing that he was wearing a fine gold 
watch-chain, Ginger concluded that his 
father must be a well-to-do man. 

“ That old fellow? Not that I know of. 
He’s too foxy. He does too much rich trade 
in tea and sugar and stuff, anyhow.” 

“ Sure, and he’s the grouchiest old codger 
I ever laid eyes on,” added Joel. 

Ginger grinned as he wondered what his 
master would say if he could hear these re¬ 
marks. 

“ He’s a miser,” continued Zed. “ He 
squeezes everybody. My father trades in 
coffee and silk and he knows him pretty 
well. He—hi, there! What are you doing 
down here? ” This last exclamation was 
meant for a youth who was approaching 
them down the dock, and Ginger turned 
and looked to see who it was. He kept on 
looking while a little smile curled the cor¬ 
ners of his mouth, for a more perfect dandy 
he had never seen. From the frilled cuffs 


86 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

of his fine linen shirt to the polished tips of 
his boots, and to the lavender silk handker¬ 
chief which he carried, the advancing youth 
was an exquisite picture. He was probably 
a year or so older than Ginger, and remov¬ 
ing his hat, his black hair shone slick and 
smooth with bear’s grease. Ginger had an 
overwhelming longing to meet this gentle¬ 
man somewhere near a nice mud-puddle 
and then, by accident, trip him up. 

“ Hello,” greeted this youth, bowing to 
Zed and nodding slightly at Joel. “ I just 
came down to look at the ships. How about 
you? ” 

“ We’re talking about slave-running,” 
grinned Zed, winking at Ginger. “ Know 
anything about it, Bart? ” 

“No slaver ever puts into Salem!” de¬ 
clared the dandy, looking disgusted. 
“You’re always talking about ugly things, 
Zed. Come on up to my house this after¬ 
noon—my sister’s baked a cake, and she’s 
going to cut it for tea.” 


A CONVERSATION 87 

“Hurray! Do we have to wait till 
then? ” cried Zed. 

“ Any chance of inviting me? ” asked the 
slow-spoken Joel. 

The newcomer, whom Zed had called 
Bart, pulled a thread off his coat. 

“You can come if you want to,” he re¬ 
plied, after a slight pause. He glanced at 
Ginger and took in his plain woolens. 
“ This a friend of yours? ” 

Ginger felt his red hair prickle. If this 
had been said on the wharves of Kingston, 
he would have plunged into a fight and 
taken some of the starch out of Bart’s ruf¬ 
fled shirt. However, he had left that sort 
of life behind him, and he merely stood and 
frowned in a determined way he had when 
he was angry—which indeed was very 
rarely. 

“He’s from Jamaica,” said Zed. “I 
don’t know your name, young fellow? ” 

“ Ginger,” was the short reply. 

“ Is that all? ” demanded Zed. 


88 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

It was all the name Ginger was ever used 
to giving, but he recollected that he must 
acquire more formal manners now, and he 
said: 

“ Ginger Wade. I’m bond-boy to Mr. 
Armstrong.” 

“ Bond-boy!” the elegant Bart echoed. 
“ Well, of course I can’t ask you to tea.” 
He turned away, and Ginger spoke. 

“ No, and I wouldn’t have accepted, any¬ 
how.” The meaning of his words was clear, 
and for a moment he and Bart looked at 
each other belligerently. Then Bart said 
loftily: 

“ I’m going on. Want to come along, 
Zed?” 

* 

“ Yes, I’ll go along with you.” Zed gave 
Ginger a good-natured grin and sauntered 
along with his friend. 

“ I’d like to bash that fop’s nose in,” de¬ 
clared Ginger. 

“ He thinks he owns the earth,” agreed 
Joel, good-naturedly. “ He looks down on 


A CONVERSATION 89 

me, too, because my father isn’t as rich as 
his father.” 

This trifling encounter irritated Ginger 
more than he cared to admit. But it had 
one good effect; it made him more deter¬ 
mined than ever to study hard. 

“ I’m not going to stay down where a 
fellow like that can tilt his nose at me,” he 
told himself energetically. “ He thinks 
I’m nobody because I’m a bond-boy, does 
he? Well, he can just wait and see.” 

After a while, he was cool enough to 
think of the talk about the secret trade from 
Africa. He wondered if his master were 
really engaged in that occupation? 

“ I never heard a hint of it at Kingston, 
but some of his island cargoes unloaded at 
the other ports on the island. It isn’t any 
of my business, but I’ll keep an eye out to 
windward.” 

Ginger was one of those people who can 
never be satisfied to accept a mystery—he 
always wanted to know. 


CHAPTER VII 



GINGER HEARS SOME GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 

That first lesson in the kitchen was fol¬ 
lowed by many more. About an hour after 
supper, Ginger would settle himself at the 
table and wait for the teacher, who soon 
arrived and drew up her stool with a busi¬ 
nesslike air which seemed to say: 

“ No waste of time, now.” 

For about an hour they would work away 
in perfect concentration, Persis apparently 
taking as great interest in their progress 
through the First Reader as Ginger himself. 
Then the lesson would begin to slacken, 
while conversation intermingled with the 
sentences Ginger chanted aloud and copied 
on his slate. The great topic at first was 
Ginger’s former life in Jamaica. Persis 
had an inexhaustible stock of questions to 
ask, and Ginger was glad to talk about his 


90 


GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 91 

country. A discussion of Kingston nat¬ 
urally included Ginger’s friendship with 
Lop and some of their escapades together. 
Persis laughed at his story of Dell’s donkey. 

“ Every time that beast of his would run 
away,” said Ginger, “ Dell would come 
tearing down to Aunt Mally’s to see if we 
were there, or he’d run around to the places 
where he thought it likely to find us; some¬ 
how, we always managed to find the burro 
before he did, and he could be sure if it 
were missing that Lop and I had it or could 
tell where we’d last been riding it; he would 
be so mad he would actually hop up and 
down.” 

“ I’d like to have seen him.” 

“ More than once I’ve stood on that little 
mule’s back to steal oranges from over a 
wall. One thing, when he stood still, he 
generally stayed that way for a long time. 
And when I think of all the fruit we ate be¬ 
tween the three of us! We used to feed him 
better than his own master did.” 


92 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

Persis laughed, then sat in unusual si¬ 
lence, as though some serious thought oc¬ 
cupied her. 

“ What are you thinking of? ” asked Gin¬ 
ger, sponging off his slate. 

“ I was picturing you stealing the fruit.” 

“ I’d like a banana right now.” But Gin¬ 
ger saw that she was serious about some¬ 
thing and wondered what it could be. He . 
did not remain long in ignorance. 

“ I don’t think you were well brought up, 
Ginger. Have you ever gone to church? ” 

Ginger shook his head. “ Never been in¬ 
side one since my mother died. She used to 
take me. I liked to go then—when I was a 
little fellow. But Aunt Mally was too fat 
and lazy to bother, and so I just naturally 
dropped the habit. Even Lop used to go 
at times to a mission. Is it my stealing that 
bothers you?” 

“ Yes. Don’t think I’m afraid you’ll turn 

out a thief-” Persis smiled at the idea. 

“ I used to take plums from Mr. Gardiner’s 



GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 93 

tree lots of times, when I was little. But I 
was thinking that you couldn’t have re¬ 
ceived any moral instruction, being brought 
up as you were. I had to read the Bible 
every day as soon as I could spell out my 
letters, and I’ve never missed church except 
two or three times when I was ill, or it was 
too stormy to go out.” 

“ I wasn’t brought up at all by Aunt 
Mally. Church is fine for girls, I guess, 
but I don’t think I’d be any better if I 
went.” 

“ Oh, yes you would,” contradicted Per- 
sis, gravely. “ It makes a difference in your 
thoughts—I can’t quite explain what I feel, 
but the minister told us last week that we 
live as we believe, and he said that if our 
minds and thoughts aren’t on a high plane, 
of course our actions won’t be, and we shall 
never amount to a great deal.” 

“ Wicked people often become rich and 
famous and have all they want,” objected 
Ginger. “ There was a planter in Kingston 


94 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

who had lots of money and big trade, but he 
treated his slaves worse than anybody else 
on the Island, they used to say; and when 
he’d ride through the town, if a negro or a 
poor person got in his way or made him 
drive slower, he’d crack at him with his 
whip as if he were a dog.” 

“ There are lots of things better than 
money; that man you speak of wouldn’t 
have the respect of those who knew him— 
he couldn’t have, and I can guess that he 
didn’t have many friends.” 

“ No—you’re right; what friends he did 
have were either like himself or men who 
wanted something from him.” 

“ Are you ambitious?” 

“ I don’t want to be a servant all my life. 
I want to be my own master.” 

“You will if you keep on. Not every¬ 
body would sit up nights studying-” 

“ Oh, that isn’t much to do.” 

“ I’ve seen a light in the stable after I’ve 
left you and gone to my room, even after 



GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 95 

I’ve said my prayers, and I know it doesn’t 
take you so long to get to bed as it does me, 
because I have to put my hair in curl¬ 
papers, and I read a chapter in some good 
book every night—sermons or some other 
instructive work.” 

“You ought to be very good,” declared 
Ginger. “ I suppose you mean that if I 
want to be ambitious in the right way, I 
should go to church, and think of something 
besides—what do you call it—worldly 
things? ” 

Persis nodded. “You admit that you 
liked to go to church when your mother 
took you? ” 

“ That was an awful long time ago.” 
Ginger remembered it in a distant way. His 
mother used to dress him in a white suit, 
put a stiff little hat on his head, and open¬ 
ing a frilly parasol, would take him by the 
hand as they walked through the hot Sun¬ 
day-morning quiet. Church was a very 
decorous affair, and little Ginger had al- 


96 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

ways been awed by the deep-voiced man 
who climbed into the pulpit and stood back 
of a huge Bible, a fine wig making him look 
doubly solemn. He remembered, even 
though it was so long ago, how the palm 
trees scraped against the window above the 
pew; and another memory was very clear 
and distinct—his mother, on Sunday even¬ 
ings, singing hymns to him in a voice which 
he considered the softest and most beautiful 
in the world. 

Persis watched Ginger’s face, as for a few 
moments he forgot her presence, and 
thought of those early years. Her sharp 
eyes did not miss the change in his expres¬ 
sion, and after gazing intently, she said: 

“ I know why you will not go to church 
now, although it’s a very foolish reason.” 

“Why?” asked Ginger in surprise. 
“ Because I’m afraid the sermon will be 
something I couldn’t understand?” 

“ No, you’ve got a mistaken pride, some¬ 
how. You hate being dependent, being a 


GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 97 

bond-boy, and if you can’t go to church in 
a fine carriage with two horses you don’t 
want to go at all.” 

“ Oh, not so bad as that, I hope! ” Gin¬ 
ger threw back his head and laughed. 
“ Whatever makes you think that? I bound 
myself out of my own free will; I’m per¬ 
fectly contented to work my seven years.” 

He did not want her to think he was dis¬ 
satisfied with his position in her home—and 
he remembered that she was his mistress, as 
much as her father was his master. 

“ I told you I want to be my own mas¬ 
ter; but that doesn’t mean I go around 
growling because I have a little work now. 
I’m not afraid of work.” 

He began to wonder, as he spoke, if he 
hadn’t been allowing himself to become use¬ 
lessly discontented. 

Persis shook her finger at him and spoke 
with the greatest solemnity she could com¬ 
mand. 

“ Arnold Wade, you are the tenth or 


98 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

twelfth cousin of the Armstrongs, I don’t 
know which; but I have lived with my dear 
father for a number of years, and I’ve seen 
some of the other Armstrongs in Boston— 
they’re all the same when it comes to pride. 
If they have to do what anybody tells them, 
they think they’re the most abused people 
on earth, and they’re happiest when order¬ 
ing others around.” Ginger was inclined to 
take this as a joke, but it made him a little 
irritated, as well. 

“You are the first person who ever ad¬ 
dressed me by my full name,” he said, to 
give himself time to consider a good argu¬ 
ment against her assertions. Persis was too 
quick for him this time. 

“ Don’t change the subject, sirrah. We’re 
discussing our characters.” 

“ Our? I thought this was all about me.” 

“ Well, I just said that to be polite, so you 
wouldn’t think I was taking liberties—we 
can talk about me afterward.” 

“ In the meantime, I’d like to hear some 


GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 


99 

more about your Armstrong pride, of which 
I seem to have my fair share.” 

“ It’s that pride that makes you want to 
advance yourself. You would never be con¬ 
tented to remain stationary forever.” 

“No, I should like to stretch my legs 
occasionally. When I was in Kingston, I 
never thought about anything better than 
what I had, or cared about learning or 
working—I used to run from work.” 

“ That was natural while you were a boy, 
and with no one around to encourage you to 
be different. If you’d stayed there, you 
would probably have been restless and dis¬ 
contented in time—maybe not so soon as up 
here. Perhaps the climate makes a differ¬ 
ence—I don’t know.” 

“ When I received the offer from your 
father to come here, I thought it would be 
a chance to get on ”—unconsciously quot¬ 
ing the words that had attracted him in the 
letter—“ and I decided all at once that I 
was going to work and be of some use. I 


> 

) 

> > 
) > > 



ioo JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

don’t think I’d ever thought about it before, 
and I don’t believe I’d have been so filled 
with ambition then, only I thought it would 
be great to come to a new country—sort of 
an adventure.” 

“ The main thing is, those worthy desires 
are permanent now.” 

“ I object just the same, to your saying 
that I won’t go to church because I want to 
be looked at and admired.” 

“ Ginger! That isn’t what I said! ” 

“ Didn’t you mention a carriage and four 
or five horses—maybe eight—in which I 
want to ride? I must give the impres¬ 
sion that I go around holding my head 
high, much too good for mere common 
people.” 

Ginger gave an imitation of a lofty sniff 
and leaned back in his chair with an exag¬ 
gerated attitude of intense hauteur. This 
attitude of pride was somewhat marred by 
an accident—his dignity, along with him¬ 
self, was upset, as he tilted his chair back 


GOLDEN SENTIMENTS ioi 

just an inch too far and sprawled on the 
floor. 

“ The reward of pride! ” announced Per- 
sis, as he sat up and rubbed the top of his 
head. 

“Well, go on with the lecture; I see I 
need it.” 

“Now, Ginger,” said Persis, as soon as 
they regained their composure, “ you know 
that isn’t what I meant at all. Possibly my 
illustration was poorly chosen, but I wished 
to be emphatic. I just know you have the 
notion that there is something shameful 
about serving.” 

Ginger responded quickly, “ If I have, 
I’m not the only one,” and then was sorry 
he had spoken, for fear she might take his 
remark as a reflection upon his master, 
which he did not intend at all. To his re¬ 
lief, Persis disregarded his interruption, 
and continued with what he afterward 
teased her about as “ her sermon.” 

“ It isn’t our station, it’s our inner 


102 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

thoughts that count. I read that in my book 
of Golden Sentiments last night.” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” Ginger said with great 
meekness. 

“ You’re too good for this kind of work— 
I mean chopping wood and so on—and you 
know it.” 

Ginger raised his brows. 

“ I’m still suffering from that Armstrong 
pride,” he murmured. 

“ You are discontented and I don’t blame 
you-” 

“ Thanks.” 

“ The wrong part comes in when you feel 
ashamed of your work. It is just as noble 
to rub horses as it is for my father to direct 
his shipping, if you look at it in the right 
way.” 

“ Is that another Golden Sentiment? ” 

“ Now, Ginger, I don’t believe you are 
getting the full benefit of my careful in¬ 
struction.” 

“ Indeed, yes. You are making up for 



GOLDEN SENTIMENTS 103 

my lack of moral instruction in the dark 
days before I came to New England.” 

“ Exactly. You should be grateful, I as¬ 
sure you, because I wouldn’t go to all this 
trouble for every one. After all, you are 
to go about your daily tasks with a chas¬ 
tened and contrite heart.” 

“ What’s that?” 

“ I’ll explain the meaning of those words 
when we come to them in the next reader— 
they’re in there, I remember.” 

“ I shall take your words of wisdom to 
the bottom of my heart, Miss Persis. Just 
you observe me in the future.” 

“ Don’t look so saintly—it doesn’t seem 
natural for you.” 

“ How well you know me! ” 

“ Now you conjugate the verb Ho be’ 
while I rest. I don’t want to talk you to 
death.” 

At first, merely amused, later reflection 
brought Ginger to the unwilling conclusion 
that Persis had said several true things 


io 4 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

which he would do just as well to think 
upon. To himself, he said: 

“ I’ve been so used to seeing slaves do the 
kind of work I’m at now, while white men 
sit around and don’t lift a finger, that I 
imagine myself a lowly creature, when I’m 
not; still, I do think Persis stretched it a 
little. But I won’t be too proud to take a 
rebuke.” 

Undoubtedly, Ginger had other Arm¬ 
strong qualities in his blood. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN INVITATION TO TEA 

THROUGH the year that followed, Gin¬ 
ger's determination to learn never slack¬ 
ened. Persis brought him more of her 
former school-books, and it was not long 
before he could teach her more mathematics 
than she had had herself. Ginger found 
that he was naturally adapted to figures, and 
piloted himself through two advanced texts 
which she brought from her father’s li¬ 
brary. 

The education given to young ladies in 
such academies as Persis had attended was 
very meager. It was not thought necessary 
for a well-bred girl to know much beyond 
music and fancy-work and how to be agree¬ 
able. 

“ And of course, you don’t want to know 

105 


106 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

how to net a purse or paint china,” she told 
him. 

What geography, history, and other 
studies she had had she helped Ginger to 
acquire, and with the quickness of an eager 
mind and a natural taste for learning, he 
went through the text-books with her. 

“ Goodness, how you do learn! ” she ex¬ 
claimed once. “You finish these books 
three or four times faster than I did.” 

“ That’s because I’m older,” Ginger in¬ 
formed her. “You were just a little girl 
when you had some of these things. I ought 
to be able to do them faster.” 

“ Yes, and of course I never concentrated 
the way you do. I was always thinking of 
something else when I should have been 
studying. La, there was so much to think 
about in the seminary, too! There was al¬ 
ways something exciting going on, like the 
time Abigail was found to be wearing false 
curls and Miss Pinkham wrote home and 
told her mother, and there was such a ter- 


AN INVITATION TO TEA 107 

rible time because Abigail’s people are 
awfully pious about things like that.” 

“ I don’t see what any girl wants to wear 
false hair for,” grinned Ginger, “ unless 
she’s bald.” 

“ Well, sir, you don’t understand subtle 
things like that. But I’m ever so glad of 
the chance to go through these studies with 
you; I never could remember the principal 
European rivers before, and I believe I 
know them now for the first time.” 

“You ought to,” laughed Ginger. 
“ You’ve made me repeat them so often. 
Anyhow, I’m glad I have you to help me 
pronounce all these names.” 

“ Now, Ginger, you know that is an 
empty compliment,” protested Persis 
gravely. “ You’ve lived around where 
there are sailors so much of the time that I 
don’t believe you hardly need to look at a 
geography at all. You know about places 
I’ve never even heard of.” 

“ But there’s one thing I surely don’t 


108 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

know a thing about, and that’s history. 
Now I wonder if I can remember which 
emperor-” 

And thus they would go on. 

Every lesson accomplished gave him a 
feeling of satisfaction, as though he had 
mounted one more step on a long flight of 
stairs. Miss Liddy soon discovered that her 
kitchen was being used as a schoolroom sev¬ 
eral nights a week, and after cautioning 
Persis not to tire her eyes, granted them an 
extra candle. Caleb inquired now and then 
how the young scholar was progressing and 
would always add: 

“ Larnin’ll never do ye any harm, lad.” 

Ginger had no real chance to make 
friends, for he was kept too busy and rarely 
had a moment to spare on his errands into 
town. At first, he rather missed the nu¬ 
merous companions whom he had had in 
Jamaica, for Ginger was gregarious by 
nature. Caleb was not very lively company, 
although he took to Ginger from the first 



AN INVITATION TO TEA 109 

and talked whenever he got the chance. 
Sometimes, Ginger felt lonely and de¬ 
pressed, and wished he had never left an 
easy pleasant life for such a hard-working 
existence. He had plenty of time to reflect 
on these things when he was doing some 
quiet job like polishing the silver—Miss 
Liddy never could have anything shine 
enough, and in addition to all the tableware, 
there were a great number of candlesticks 
and Persis’s tea set and trays and the stat¬ 
uettes on the parlor mantel. 

He met Zed and Joel several times in 
Salem. They were always together, and 
they always greeted him cheerily, but he 
had no opportunity to make other acquaint¬ 
ances. 

Barton Ridgely, he began to see now and 
again. His sister and Persis had become 
very warm friends, and as the two girls were 
always visiting back and forth, Bart occa¬ 
sionally came to the Armstrong mansion, 
too. Ginger always greeted him with the 


I io JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

utmost good-will, managing to treat him in 
a genial, lofty manner which indicated that 
he was the superior, and not Bart, the 
silly snob, as Ginger privately called him. 
This attitude enraged Bart, and Ginger 
would hide a grin and whistle and make 
some remark like— 

“ Been down to the docks lately? But I 
suppose you don’t like to go near those 
tough sailors. They might get rough, you 
know.” 

Sarcasm such as this went a little over 
Bart’s head, but he knew that he was being 
made fun of in some way, and he would 
glower in silence as Ginger led his horse 
away. One day, Bart and his sister Jennie 
and Persis had all been riding together. 
There was a pleasant cedar-shaded lane not 
far from the house, an ideal stretch for a 
brisk canter, and Persis often rode there in 
her pony-cart—she had to be ladylike most 
of the time. 

Ginger used this lane as a short cut to the 


AN INVITATION TO TEA m 

town stores and markets—the word “ short 
cut ” must be taken in rather a poetic sense, 
for it was really the longest way; but he 
liked it the best. He was swinging along, 
his hands in his pockets, enjoying the warm 
summer air, when in the distance ahead, he 
saw Persis and her friends trotting slowly 
toward him. They were on their way home. 

“ Persis is riding Black Pearl,” thought 
Ginger, moving to the side of the lane. 
“ She’s a tricky horse, that mare,—always 
wants to bite.” 

Although the riders were too far away 
for him to see their faces, he knew which of 
the two girls was Persis, by the color of the 
horse and also by the bright green riding- 
habit which Persis wore, its long folds a 
vivid splash of color on one side. She moved 
a little ahead of the others, turning her 
head and nodding her plumed hat, as if 
urging them to come on faster. Suddenly, 
something shot across the road right in 
front of her horse. Ginger saw that it was 



112 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

a small pig, evidently running from the 
field which lay back of the cedar-trees. The 
frightened mare reared and plunged, then 
dashed wildly forward, while Persis tugged 
in vain at the reins. Bart and Jennie im¬ 
mediately spurred after, but Black Pearl 
was too swift for their mounts, and in that 
treacherous dash Persis would have been 
thrown—the more easily, since being a girl, 
of course she rode side-saddle—had it not 
been for Ginger. 

Ginger did not stop to think of his own 
danger. He darted forward as Black Pearl 
came abreast, seized the bridle and gripped 
it with all his force. After a frightened 
plunge, the black mare stood still, trem¬ 
bling and rolling her eyes. Ginger had 
been dragged several feet, and stood rub¬ 
bing his hand where the bridle had cut his 
palm. 

“ Ginger, you have saved my life!” ex¬ 
claimed Persis, making no move to dis¬ 
mount. 


AN INVITATION TO TEA 113 

She had turned pale, but otherwise 
showed not the slightest fright at what had 
occurred. 

“ She’s all right now,” replied Ginger, 
rubbing the horse’s nose. “ Good day, Miss 
Armstrong.” 

“ ‘ Miss Armstrong ’ ! ” echoed Persis 
laughing. “ You haven’t called me that for 
an age! Wait, Ginger ”—for he was going 
on his way—“ I want you to- 

Her words were drowned out by the noisy 
arrival of her companions. 

“ Are you all right? Don’t stay on that 
beast! ” Jennie was crying in her shrill ex¬ 
cited voice. 

“ I am so glad you stopped Black Pearl,” 
was Bart’s commendation. “You’ve got 
lots of presence of mind, Persis. If I could 
have reached you just a second sooner-” 

" / had nothing to do with it,” retorted 
Persis, who knew perfectly well that Bar¬ 
ton must have seen the whole action. “ I 
owe my life to Ginger. Ginger,” address- 




114 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

ing him in her most gracious and dignified 
manner, “when you return from your 
errand, I would like the pleasure of your 
company at tea—my friends, I know, would 
love to meet you.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Ginger solemnly, 
seeing the twinkle in her eyes. “ I accept 
your invitation with pleasure.” He did not 
know whether this was the right thing to 
say or not, but it sounded effective. Bow¬ 
ing, he went on his way, casting a glance at 
Bart, who completely overlooked his exist¬ 
ence. 

As soon as he was out of sight past a turn 
in the lane, Ginger took to his heels and 
ran. He performed his errand—it was to 
purchase salt fish—in record time, and 
sprinted all the way back to the Armstrong 
mansion. The reason for this extraordinary 
speed was that Ginger knew the punctual 
hour at which Miss Liddy served afternoon 
tea, and he wanted time to make himself 
presentable. He astonished the housekeeper 


AN INVITATION TO TEA 115 

by a tremendous session of scrubbing his 
face and hands in the kitchen. 

“ What are you cleaning up for in the 

✓ 

middle of the day? ” she wanted to know, 
watching him emerge from a sea of soap¬ 
suds. 

Ginger explained, and Miss Liddy raised 
her eyebrows. 

“ Miss Persis invited you to drink a cup 
o’ tea with her? Why, she’s got company! ” 

“ Yes, I know.” Ginger did not tell her 
the reason for the invitation, and he could 
see that she thought it very strange, for she 
was one of those faithful old servants who 
believe strictly in social position. Ginger 
thought about this as he wrestled with his 
hair, which had an ungovernable tendency 
to rise in the world. Liberally slapping 
water on the comb, he felt a little uncom¬ 
fortable. It was in moments like this, when 
he saw that he was looked upon as a mere 
ignorant bond-boy, that he always made 
extra resolutions to learn so that sometime 


116 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

he would be in a position where no one 
would dare to look down on him. He put 
on a clean shirt, polished his shoes with a 
rag, and was obliged to call himself ready. 
Appearance had never worried him before, 
but he did feel that his clumping shoes and 
coarse patched clothes were a strange sight 
in the small south parlor where tea was 
served. However, there was a good deal of 
self-confidence packed under his red hair, 
and Persis set herself to make Ginger feel 
at home and show Bart and Jennie that he 
also was her friend and equal. 

Jennie was a plump good-natured girl, 
and she was greatly excited over Ginger’s 
“ heroic rescue,” as she kept calling it, much 
to his discomfiture. She wanted to know 
about Jamaica, and Ginger soon found him¬ 
self talking freely. To his secret amuse¬ 
ment, this made Bart violently jealous. His 
stories of the West Indies and of the sea put 
Bart in the background, where that young 
gentleman very sulkily stayed. 


CHAPTER IX 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 

THUS summer went by, and autumn ar¬ 
rived one night with fairy torches that lit 
the maples and burned the elm-trees into 
pure gold. Ginger rose in the vaporous 
white mornings, to be amazed anew each 
day as the color deepened everywhere 
around him. It was his first sight of au¬ 
tumn. 

“ Another first thing for me,” he told 
Persis. “ When I stood on the deck of the 
Silver Wing as we sailed into the harbor, I 
thought nothing could be more colorless 
and drab than Salem; after Kingston, every¬ 
thing looked one shade of gray. But now, 
what gorgeous colors! When I look off in 
the distance, it makes me think of the wings 
of our birds in Jamaica, spread out in a 
great blaze.” 

117 


118 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

The vivid green faded from the meadows, 
and the echo of cawing crows carried from 
one stone-walled field to another. Golden- 
rod claimed the unsown land for its own, 
and the bright blue asters, the starry Saint 
Johnswort, ragamuffin tansy and tickweed 
—all danced up and down the roadways 
and encroached on fenced-in gardens as 
near as they dared. The disk of a sun¬ 
flower was as large as the harvest-moon, 
and grapes hung in warm pendants, indigo 
under their silver bloom. The frost-painted 
leaves dropped all too soon, and Ginger 
raked together the softly rustling piles and 
watched them burn with blue smoke 
through the hazy air. The ground hard¬ 
ened under foot, and where only a little 
while ago he had turned up furrows of 
soft earth in the garden, now were hard 
cracked ridges and frost-bitten clods. 

Then the distant landscape faded, and the 
reds and yellows turned old and withered 
brown; trees that to-day were clothed in 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 119 

quaker-hued leaves, to-morrow stood against 
the sky, bare and chill. Ice formed regu¬ 
larly in the morning on pans of milk and 
water, heavy fogs rolled in from the sea. 
The first snow fell, a quick flurry; then in 
another week, a real storm, and winter was 
on. 

For the first time in his life, Ginger saw 
snow. He stood with his nose against the 
window-pane, watching the soft feathers 
fall. Then he rushed outside, to feel the 
wet flakes on his cheek, and as they came 
down faster and thicker, he picked up a 
handful and made his first snowball which 
he sent flying in Caleb’s direction with great 
vigor. 

U I bet you this be different from Ja- 
maicy,” chuckled Caleb, successfully duck¬ 
ing the ball, which smeared the wall behind 
him instead of his ear. 

“If Lop could just see this!” thought 
Ginger, remembering his old friend for the 
first time in quite a while. It was odd to 


i2o JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

him how quickly all the old life was sink¬ 
ing into the past. 

Ginger heard from Miss Liddy that the 
Silver Wing was due in a few days, and he 
kept a lookout, hoping he would be lucky 
enough to see her come in; he was, but he 
scarcely recognized her, for she was 
sheathed in ice from a raging storm, and 
glittered like a silver-plated vessel. 

And when he would go on errands into 
the town, he could slide down the hill on a 
glaze of ice; and he did more than slide, 
at that, for he caused Caleb a great deal of 
amusement one day by slipping on the ice 
and waving his arms and legs wildly in the 
air before he righted himself. 

Christmas was coming, and for days 
ahead, Ginger sped from one window to an¬ 
other with arms full of wreaths, hurried to 
place evergreens and holly on the mantel 
and around the doors, chopped wood with 
Caleb for extra big fires, helped Miss Liddy 
take pies and puddings from the oven, 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 


121 


shelled nuts, shovelled snow, and went 
around with fir twigs and needles perpet¬ 
ually decorating his red head, as though he, 
too, were festively ornamented along with 
the rest of the house. It gave him a mo¬ 
ment’s regret to kill the turkeys and geese— 
he had tended them all year and they were 
his pets. But he had little time to mourn 
gobblers and ganders, when he must dash 
down to the post to mail Christmas invita¬ 
tions, with a cloud of plucked feathers 
trailing behind him. Ginger was one of 
those happy people, adaptable to almost 
anything they attempt, and every one made 
good use of him during these holiday prepa¬ 
rations. Lessons were temporarily aban¬ 
doned, for Persis must get ready to receive 
the cousins and friends who were due to ar¬ 
rive in two or three days, depending on the 
state of the highways. So long as her father 
allowed her perfect freedom in running the 
household, hospitality would never be lack¬ 
ing. The Armstrong mansion was like a 


122 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

huge Christmas cake, frosted with snow 
and fringed with icicles which glittered in 
the intermittent sunlight. The elm-trees 
glowed like glazed pottery in their icy 
covering, and the soft silence of December 
was broken only by sleigh-bells or snapping 
branches. 

The guests arrived, and there were extra 
horses to be put up, and the never-ending 
task of clearing the front steps of heavy wet 
snow. Miss Liddy’s kitchen and her little 
back parlor became suddenly animated with 
the presence of two lady’s maids, two coach¬ 
men, and three other men servants. Caleb 
liked society, and was in his element listen¬ 
ing to accounts of the bad roads and the gen¬ 
eral stable gossip, as they all stood around a 
table heaped with cold meats, jams, meat 
pies, and dried fruits. 

Ginger hung the coachmen’s great coats 
in front of the fire to steam dry, and lugged, 
it seemed to him, hundreds and hundreds 
of loads of wood from the shed outside to 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 123 

the boxes by the hearths. Miss Liddy had 
little time to visit, even with the help of two 
girls in the kitchen just for the Yuletide 
season, for she must be baking and roasting 
every minute, and sending Ginger down cel¬ 
lar all the time for more of everything. 

One of the lady’s maids was a jolly 
young girl, rather pert, who put on airs be¬ 
fore the other servants, but was apparently 
of a garrulous disposition, for every time 
Ginger passed by she called him “ Red¬ 
head,” (which he did not like at all) and 
asked a breathless question or two about 
anything she could think of; in return for 
his answers, retailing some scrap of gossip 
about the Armstrongs. She would stand in 
front of the fire with a frilled cap on her 
head, watching everything that went on 
with great eagerness. 

u Are you Aunt Myrah’s maid?” in¬ 
quired Ginger, carrying in four mince pies. 

“ La, my dear! I’ve told you that three 
times already,” replied the girl, patting a 


124 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

row of false curls and reaching for a slice 
of mince pie. “ I assure you she wouldn’t 
care to hear you call her ‘ aunt,’ because she 
is monstrous anxious to be thought very 
young!” 

“ Aunts may be young.” 

“ Sometimes, but it does sound elderly- 
like, don’t you-” 

But Ginger had disappeared. In such 
scraps of conversation, he learned the names 
and relationships of all the guests and the 
various oddities of each; for Mattie thought 
it a great joke on her superiors to discover 
their every weakness. Her name, by the 
way, was Mathilda, and she showed some 
pique when Ginger jokingly addressed her 
as “ Mattie.” 

“ It does not befit my position in Miss 
Myrah’s household,” she declared between 
mutton pie and coffee. “ Neither is it my 
right name-” 

“ No,” answered Ginger, as he stacked up 
empty dishes. “ And my name isn’t ( Red- 




CHRISTMAS GUESTS 125 

head ’—it’s Arnold,” with which he grinned 
above the plates and hurried away. 

After that, she made no comment on his 
calling her Mattie. 

The next morning after the arrival of the 
guests saw a slight lull, as every one was 
tired, and the travellers slept late. The 
cooking and baking went on as ever, but 
Ginger was of little service here. He had 
carried in so many loads of fire-wood in the 
last few days that he had the satisfaction of 
seeing roaring fires and full wood-boxes in 
every room, and took the welcome oppor¬ 
tunity to sit down and eat. 

“ O dear! ” Mattie opened her mouth in 
a wide yawn over her breakfast. “ I sup¬ 
pose your mistress still sleeps, Sarah, dear? ” 

Sarah, the other maid, was a frigid per¬ 
son who appeared to exist contentedly in the 
contemplation of her own small importance. 
“ Naturally, she is fatigued.” 

“ So be us poor maids, but we have to be 
up and around shaking lavender over every- 


126 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

thing and winding ribbons and we don’t 
know what all,” cheerily declared Mattie. 

Ginger was eating with them, and he 
poured more coffee for all three. Break¬ 
fast had been a continuous affair all morn¬ 
ing, and he had been too busy to get his 
own with Caleb earlier, so Miss Liddy had 
ordered him to eat with the maids. 

“ Don’t mind if they tilt their noses in 
the air,” she had said. “ That Miss Sarah 
do look through me like I was nothing.” 

“ I am much more weary than my mis¬ 
tress,” Mattie was saying. “ But what a 
time I shall have when she arises! She in¬ 
sists on an abominable French coiffure, and 
I must curl and frizz until she believes she 
looks years younger, although her extraor¬ 
dinary pains merely display her right age.” 

“Very bad taste, I would say,” Sarah 
condescended to respond, turning to Gin¬ 
ger, who was surprised that she should ad¬ 
dress him at all, as she did indeed u look 
through a person ” as Miss Liddy had said, 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 


127 

and she seemed to think a mere bond-boy 
was nobody at all. 

u Your mistress is very genteel and prop¬ 
er, Master Ginger.” 

“Yes, she is,” he agreed, thinking that 
Sarah was coming out of her shell. “ I 
don’t like these snobby kind of servants,” he 
thought. Aloud, he added, “ Miss Persis is 
the most charming young lady I have ever 
seen.” 

“ Very true,” nodded Sarah, sagely, “ al¬ 
though naturally you would be prejudiced 
in the favor of a relative you have known 
so intimately.” 

“ La, are you an Armstrong? ” cried 
Mattie, opening her mouth and staring in 
amazement at Ginger. 

“ Certainly,” Sarah replied for him, smil¬ 
ing a trifle over her knowledge. “ Did not 
you know that he is a cousin, through Anna 
Wade, who used to be Miss Shelby? ” 

“ Well, but I never dreamed! ” exclaimed 
Mattie. “ And I might have guessed it, too, 


128 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

since Mr. Armstrong holds him in such 
wonderful favor.” 

Ginger looked up quickly. This was the 
first he knew of any wonderful favor. 

“ Mr. Obed Armstrong is a man of strong 
character,” said Sarah, wisely, becoming 
almost chatty under the unconcealed in¬ 
terest of her audience. “ He has his good 
reasons, Master Ginger, for keeping you in 
such a—er—low sort of service for a time.” 

Ginger stopped eating. 

“ For a time? ” What was Sarah talk¬ 
ing about? 

“ Miss Armstrong says you have a fine fu¬ 
ture before you,” put in Mattie, anxious to 
contribute all she knew. “ But I didn’t 
know you were one of the family.” 

Ginger looked down into his cup, and 
thought how kind Persis had been to him 
and how anxious she was for him to get 
ahead. 

“ My mistress thought it very strange 
that a relative should be a bond-boy,” 


con- 


CHRISTMAS GUESTS 


129 

tinued Sarah, “and I believe she said so to 
Mr. Armstrong. My mistress always speaks 
her mind; she does despise any evasions or 
hints.” 

“ What did he say? ” asked Mattie, who 
could never restrain her curiosity. 

Ginger held his cup in the air, waiting. 

“ I wasn’t present, so how could I know? 
But Mr. Armstrong never does anything 
without reason, and my mistress seemed 
perfectly satisfied with his explanation, 
whatever it was. She expressed a wish to 
see this fortunate Jamaica cousin. She says 
that Mr. Armstrong has things in store for 
Master Wade.” 

“ Fortunate? ” echoed Ginger, wholly 
mystified. “ Now what can she mean? ” 


CHAPTER X 


GINGER’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT 

Christmas Day dawned through the soft 
fall of snowflakes, a day when everything 
in the world seemed to be encrusted with 
silver and robed in purity. Through the 
star-spun flakes, firs and evergreens made 
their own Christmas garlands against the 
deep-clouded sky; the little tracks of birds, 
where Persis had scattered bread crumbs, 
were covered up as quickly as they were 
formed. Ginger knocked a shower of spun 
glass about his head, bumping into the 
icicle-fringed stable door. Rising sleepily 
from bed that morning, he thought he was 
dreaming and seeing a picture of Jamaica 
—but it was only the rime on his window- 
pane, etched in tropic ferns and leaves with 
elf-like delicacy. 


130 


GINGER’S PRESENT 


I 3 I 

“Merry Christmas!” shouted Caleb, 
drawing water from the pump, while his 
breath hung in a heavy cloud before his 
face. 

“Merry Christmas!” called back Gin¬ 
ger, moving quickly about his morning 
chores to keep himself warm. 

Ginger had been told to dress carefully 
for the occasion, and Miss Liddy had given 
him a new waistcoat, a ruffled shirt of fine 
linen, a stock, and a new pair of boots which 
she said Mr. Armstrong had ordered. Gin¬ 
ger felt very grand as he put on these new 
garments, brushing his coat and surveying 
himself with satisfaction. 

He ate breakfast again with the two 
maids, and was hardly seated before Mattie 
cried out: 

“ Oh, Master Ginger! Look how you’ve 
got your stock tied! Let me fix it for you! ” 
And she jumped up, to Ginger’s discom¬ 
fiture, and loosening it about his neck, re¬ 
arranged it. “Men are so helpless!” she 


I 3 2 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

observed with the indulgent air one uses to 
children. 

“ A young man should endeavor to be 
scrupulously tidy in his appointments,” 
commented Sarah loftily. 

Ginger did not want to say that he had 
never worn a cravat before, so he went on 
eating in silence, rather glad, after all, that 
Mattie had been kind enough to remedy his 
amateur work. 

“Now to get ready for church!” said 
Mattie as they rose from the table. “ Mis¬ 
tress’ll wear her latest bonnet, I’ve no doubt, 
and criticise others for thinking of finery 
when their minds should be on the sermon.” 

Ginger learned, to his surprise, that all 
the servants were to go to Christmas service 
•—Caleb and Miss Liddy and the two girls 
who came in to help. 

“ See that you are all ready now,” the 
housekeeper warned him. “ Go comb your 
hair again, and wash your hands good.” 

Ginger obeyed these instructions, and 


GINGER’S PRESENT 


i 33 

then stood waiting by the stove, supposing 
they were to leave together. But at the last 
minute, while Miss Liddy was tying her 
bonnet and Caleb was putting on his ear- 
muffs with a complaint about “ pains in my 
dinged ears ”—one of the men servants ap¬ 
peared at the door, and spying Ginger, 
beckoned with his finger. 

“ Mr. Armstrong wants you,” he called. 
“ Bring your hat—we’re starting now.” 

Wondering why he should bring his hat, 
and supposing only that he was to do some 
last trifling service before leaving, Ginger 
hurried after the man, into the front parlor, 
where he had had his first interview with 
Mr. Armstrong early in the year. 

It was crowded now with all the relatives 
and friends, gathering up muffs and robes 
and moving toward the door. Persis, look¬ 
ing like a snow-fairy in her white fur- 
trimmed pelisse, nodded to Ginger and ex¬ 
claimed: 

“ Merry Christmas! ” 


i 3 4 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Merry Christmas to you! ” he answered, 
pausing before Mr. Armstrong and await¬ 
ing orders. 

The old man was bundled up to the eyes, 
and leaning on his cane as usual. In spite 
of his feeble appearance, his glance was as 
piercing as the youngest there, and his voice 
lacked nothing of strength and will. 

“ Good morning, Ginger,” he greeted. 
“ Will you take my arm and assist me to the 
carriage? My old enemy, rheumatism, has 
gained a march on me.” 

“ Certainly, sir.” 

Ginger gave him the support of his 
strong arm and shoulder, and thus, followed 
by Persis, they led the way from the 
house. 

The first carriage was to take Mr. Arm¬ 
strong and his daughter and two aunts, with 
room for one more. Ginger stood aside, 
thinking that this was all that was required 
of him, but Mr. Armstrong motioned him 
to take his place—between the aunts. 


GINGER’S PRESENT 


135 

“ Seems as if I’m being advanced in the 
world,” thought Ginger, sitting down and 
feeling rather ill at ease, especially as 
Mattie’s mistress, who sat on his left, raised 
a lorgnette and surveyed him openly. 

Thus they rode to church, silent for the 
most part, for with the casual drift of fall¬ 
ing snow it was pleasanter to keep chins and 
mouths buried in furs and mufflers. Ar¬ 
rived at the meeting-house, Ginger assisted 
Mr. Armstrong to his pew, and found that 
he himself was to sit, as in the carriage, be¬ 
tween the aunts. Persis gave him an amused 
smile as they settled with quiet decorum, 
and Ginger decided to accept his position 
with a good grace, even though he would 
much rather have been in the back with 
Caleb and Miss Liddy. 

“ Bad enough having to come to church 
at all,” he grumbled inwardly, holding a 
hymn-book with the aunt on his right, who 
appeared a trifle more human than Ma¬ 
thilda’s mistress on his left. “Now if 


136 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

church does a person any good, as Persis 
was telling me it does, I ought to be a much 
better man when I leave here than when I 
came in. It’s a shame for my master to 
stand up and sing when he cheated a sailor 
on his wages only a week ago—if what I 
heard is true. Perhaps he is not so hard as 
men make out, though I know certainly that 
he loves money.” 

In spite of some misgivings, Ginger en¬ 
joyed the service. He listened carefully to 
every word of the sermon, which was a long 
one; and he determined to turn over in his 
own mind that which he heard, afterward. 
It occurred to him, as he sat there, that all 
the better class of people observed the Sab¬ 
bath—“ and I shouldn’t hold out as a 
heathen,” he reflected, “ unless I have very 
good reasons for so doing, when fine intelli¬ 
gent men and women feel it right to go to 
church.” This, by the way, was something 
Persis had once hinted to him. 

These salutary reflections made Ginger 


GINGER’S PRESENT 


137 

feel so virtuous that he was ready to believe 
good of any one and every one, and he even 
began to think that perhaps Mr. Armstrong 
had recalled his promise of “ a chance in 
the world,” and was choosing this method 
of showing Ginger’s promotion. 

“ Certainly, something has occurred, or 
he has let words drop, since Mattie and 
Sarah seemed to agree about my being in 
favor; and now here I ride between these 
fine ladies from Boston.” 

Ginger was not left long to conjecture 
and surmise. Service came to an end, and 
the return home to warm fires was hastened 
as much as possible. The dinner was a long 
affair of many courses, and as is usual at 
Christmas, every one ate more than was 
good for him, masters and servants alike; 
but it was very enjoyable, all the same. Just 
after the conclusion to this heavy though 
festive meal, Ginger was sent for by Mr. 
Armstrong. The same man servant put his 
head in the doorway as before, announcing 


138 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

that“ Master Ginger is wanted up-stairs by 
Mr. Armstrong.” 

“ We’re a-gettin’ purty fancy, hey?” 
grinned Caleb, as Ginger hurried to obey 
the summons. 

Up -stairs, as he knew, meant the small 
private sitting-room where Mr. Armstrong 
stayed when he wished to be alone or un¬ 
disturbed, or where he occasionally inter¬ 
viewed men on business which apparently 
could not be conducted in his offices down 
by the docks. Ginger had been into this 
room two or three times with wood, and 
once he had been commissioned to polish 
the andirons, so he was perfectly familiar 
with the aspect of the room. It faced the 
sea, and through the thin white curtains a 
view of the whole harbor was obtained. 
The furniture was dark and heavy, of serv¬ 
iceable appearance, which, with a large 
desk and a case full of books and rolls of 
papers, gave it the air of an office. The 
walls were hung with numerous prints, 


GINGER’S PRESENT 139 

etchings, and paintings of ships—merchant¬ 
men, British and French cruisers, sloops, 
whalers, brigs, schooners—every type of 
vessel had its image hung against the dark 
flowers of the wall-paper; and in the spaces 
between these pictures were maps and 
charts of the Seven Seas and the continents. 
Beside the desk was a large globe, and 
above it, a ship’s model carved during some 
long voyage to relieve the monotonous 
hours. To the official air of the room was 
offered as by contrast, bright rugs and a 
snapping fire, and a green plant in one of 
the window-seats. 

Ginger had never seen Mr. Armstrong 
in this room, and observing him now, seated 
in an armchair before the desk, he thought 
that the whole chamber had a changed at¬ 
mosphere ; just what, he could not have said, 
although if he had been able to formulate 
in words the vague impression he received, 
he would have said that the air seemed 
vitalized and animated, as though it were 


i4o JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

filled with the strong spirit of the old man 
who sat there at his desk. 

“ Stand there,” ordered Mr. Armstrong, 
waving his stick to a place in the light. 

Ginger recalled that on the first occasion 
of their meeting, he had been similarly mo¬ 
tioned. 

“Young man, I have a very pleasant 
communication to make to you,” he began 
in his dry decisive way. “ My daughter 
informs me that you are making rapid head¬ 
way in the acquisition of learning. Is she 
right? ” 

“ I am doing my best, sir,” Ginger made 
answer to the implied question. “ Miss 
Armstrong has been so kind-” 

“ I know; my daughter has the most gen¬ 
erous heart in the world.” The old man’s 
face almost softened, as his voice truly did, 
when speaking of his beloved child. “ She 
tells me that you are proficient in mathe¬ 
matics, and I see you write a fair hand.” 
He indicated a sheet of paper on the desk, 



GINGER’S PRESENT 


Hi 

and Ginger was surprised to see that it was 
one of his own exercises. 

“ Persis must have taken this!” he 
thought. 

“ Now, sir,” said Mr. Armstrong, “ I am 
going to promote you. You have worked 
well enough in your capacity as servant, 
but I need a clerk in my office, and I think 
you can fill the place. I can find a number 
of suitable boys who will be able to rub 
down my horses and feed my poultry, but 
it is not so easy to get some one for my busi¬ 
ness whom I feel that I can trust. Your 
indentures will be cancelled, and you will 
start in under John Lang, who will teach 
you what is necessary. The work will be 
routine, perhaps monotonous—it doesn’t 
matter; I expect you to do it well. The 
main thing is, I am going to watch you; and 
if you have the character I think you have, 
I will advance you as I see fit. I need 
more help as I grow older, and my shipping 
has increased in the last five years to a point 


142 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

where I must consider enlarging my office 
equipment. There is no reason why you 
should not learn quickly-” 

“ Oh, sir, I want to learn the shipping- 
trade more than anything! ” Ginger could 
not help bursting out eagerly, as he felt that 
his great ambition was going to be realized 
at last. 

Mr. Armstrong watched Ginger keenly 
as he spoke, but made no response to his 
impulsive statement. 

“ I need some one, and I think you can 
fill the place—that is the sum and substance 
of it. I expect you to make good; there is 
no reason why you should not, and as I told 
you once before, excuses don’t weigh with 
me. In the first place, I won’t listen to an 
excuse. If I give you work, it’s to be done, 
willy-nilly. You’ve some new clothes, and 
they will be plenty good enough for down 
there. Report to Mr. Lang to-morrow 
morning, and he will show you what to do. 
That is all.” 



GINGER’S PRESENT 


H3 

u Sir, I must thank you for your great 
kindness.” 

“ I am not advancing you because you 
have taken my fancy, although that is what 
my dull-witted cousins think. If you can 
be of more use to me in my office, there you 
shall stay.” 

“ Then I shall thank you by working as 
hard as I can,” Ginger declared earnestly, 
backing away and finally leaving the room, 
as Mr. Armstrong did not reply. 

“ I know he isn’t moving me down to his 
office for charity! ” laughed Ginger, jump¬ 
ing down the stairs three at a time. 11 But a 
real chance at last! A chance! I can learn 
the business—he said he would promote me 
—I’ll get a book on navigation, so I’ll know 
that end of it, too —he started out by sailing 
as a seaman before the mast-” 

Ginger saw it all in quick golden flashes. 
A fine future, prominence, wealth, adven¬ 
ture, everything all at once in a wild medley 
of happy anticipation. He was so excited 



i 4 4 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

that he ran down the hallway, almost knock¬ 
ing over Persis, who was standing outside 
the kitchen door. 

“ Excuse me—I didn’t see you-” 

gasped Ginger, breathlessly. 

“ No, I should say not! How could you 
see anybody, flying along like a bird? Tell 
me—what did Father say?” 

“ I’m promoted—I’m to go to work to¬ 
morrow in his office—Mr. Lang is to show 
me all about it. I know I’ve got more brains 
than he has—to-morrow ” 

“ Now—now! I’m just as excited as you 
are, I assure you. I thought that was why 
he sent for you, but I wanted to make sure. 
Isn’t it wonderful? ” 

“ The best Christmas present in the 
world!” laughed Ginger, exultantly. He 
felt as if the earth were his. The old de¬ 
pression, the feeling of hopelessness, was 
gone. And all at once, he realized to whom 
he owed so much of his good fortune. 

“ Persis, if it weren’t for your help, I’d 




GINGER’S PRESENT 


i45 

never have had this opportunity,” he de¬ 
clared earnestly. 

“ Oh, that’s nothing! If you were stupid 
and could not learn, or contented and didn’t 
care whether you learned at all, my help 
would have been worthless. I knew you 
were made for something better than a mere 
bond-boy! I felt it in me! ” She smiled in 
great satisfaction that she had so correctly 
foretold his future. 

“ Don’t creep in the background like 
that! I owe everything to you, and I’ll 
never forget it. I don’t know how to repay 
you now, but some day, maybe I’ll be able 
to. You just wait and see if I don’t.” 

“ That’s the way to talk! Do not let any¬ 
thing discourage you. Maybe you’ll be 
junior partner some day. My father will 
need some one, ten years from now—God 
willing that he lives.” 

“ Well, I don’t want to brag now. It’s a 
lot better to act than talk—that sounds like 
this morning’s sermon, by the way. If I 


146 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

do my best, I guess I don’t need to worry 
about results.” 

“ No, they will take care of themselves.” 

“ If I can just make good! ” 

“You will!” declared Persis. “ Isn’t it 
just splendid? ” 

“ A real chance! ” 

And all the rest of that day, and through 
his dreams that night as he lay by his rime- 
paned window, the words formed them¬ 
selves into a kind of music that danced on 
and on, beckoning into the future. 


CHAPTER XI 


GINGER’S new job 

The next morning Ginger awoke with 
the automatic thought of carrying in more 
wood—and then quickly came the recol¬ 
lection of the change, the realization that 
wood-carrying was over. 

“ Instead of a milk-pail I’ll be holding a 
pen,” he thought, cheerfully, dressing in 
the best clothes and descending his ladder 
with a new fresh consciousness of how 
pleasant the world looked early in the 
morning. 

The sun was shining. No more falling 
snow, but clear light everywhere on a spar¬ 
kling silver picture. The roosters were 
crowing furiously, and the east was still 
rose-pink from the sunrise. Stamping the 
wet snow from his boots on the stone step, 

i47 


148 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

Ginger entered the kitchen, ready to tell 
Miss Liddy the good news. 

But the housekeeper forestalled him. 

“ So I’ve lost my helper!” she greeted 
him cheerily, her hands full of cups and 
saucers. 

u You’ll have some one else,” answered 
Ginger, sitting down at the table with a 
wonderful sense of leisure and luxury. 

“ Yes, some green bumpkin that’ll have 
to be taught everything, most like! But I’m 
glad enough for your good fortune, Gin¬ 
ger. You are a bright boy, as I always gave 
you credit for being.” 

Ginger thought this breakfast the best he 
had ever tasted, the weather seemed more 
bracing than he had ever known it, and 
every one with whom he spoke was the best- 
natured person in the world. In the height 
of his spirits, he set off for the offices by 
the docks, whistling at the top of his voice 
and kicking up frosty clouds of white snow 
at every step. How could he ever regret 


GINGER’S NEW JOB 149 

Kingston? It seemed impossible, now— 
and yet not so long ago, he would have 
given anything for an opportunity to return 
to the old life. But it was like a dream that 
was fast disappearing from memory. The 
warm, idle existence, as lazy as the tropic 
breeze that ruffled the palm-leaves, was as 
distant as though it belonged to another 
life. 

Could that Ginger who swung bare legs 
on an old wharf-pile, sucking fruit and chat¬ 
ting with Lop, be the Ginger who now 
strode down the hill, shoulders back, active 
purpose in the whole set of his figure, and 
in every current of thought? 

“ A year can bring a big change,” Gin¬ 
ger reflected, passing under lilac-bushes 
that held great soft lumps of snow on their 
branches. 

To reach Obed Armstrong’s offices, Gin¬ 
ger went by the harbor. After the white 
snow, piled like thick felt all through 
Salem, the water and the ships at anchor 


150 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

were dark and dirty-looking. On the swirl¬ 
ing tides rode straws and scraps of rubbish, 
muddy and unclean. Darkly stained hulls 
rose into the cold air, surmounted by masts 
on which sails lay bundled up in their har¬ 
bor sleep. The sea was foamy with white 
caps, and a fresh, cold wind made Ginger’s 
cheeks tingle. 

It was good to be by the sea in such 
bright, crisp weather! He loved the sight 
of the ships, each one a symbol of adven¬ 
ture, from perilous journeys around the 
Horn, from the West Indies, the Barbary 
Coast, the far Eastern ports where the air 
dripped with spices and the sunlight caught 
the soft sheen of silks; from storm and calm, 
torrid or temperate zone, they came, flying 
the flags of many nations, the rigging 
manned by Yankees, Kanakas, blacks, Is¬ 
landers, Italians, any one and every one. 

“ I’ll come down here at noon and talk 
to the sailors,” Ginger promised himself. 

What a pleasure that would be, after the 


GINGER’S NEW JOB 151 

long time since he had had any conversation 
with seafarers! He felt again that nothing 
could ever alter the indefinable call of the 
sea—a call that was answered in the tang 
of salt air, in the restless green breakers, and 
in the sweep of ocean relieved only by 
sky. 

Here were the offices—Mr. Armstrong’s 
name on a brass sign that needed polishing 
badly. The small-paned windows were 
dusty and blurred so that one could scarcely 
see through them, and the whole building 
in which the offices were, had a run-down 
seedy air, as though big trading affairs 

could never be conducted here. There was 

% 

one cracked granite step leading up to the 
door, and Ginger stepped on it with the 
thought that Mr. Armstrong did not care 
very much about appearances. There was 
a large iron knocker on the door, green with 
age and rusted at the corners, molded in the 
shape of a dolphin’s head, with hinges 
fashioned as highly ornate fins. 


152 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

“ Rather a wicked-looking monster,’’ said 
Ginger, entering without lifting it, for it 
had long since slipped into disuse. 

The interior was as dusty and musty as 
might be expected from a view of the 
blurred windows and general dilapidation. 
Here were desks piled with ledgers and 
papers, stools from which the paint was long 
worn, a ship’s lamp, smoking and swinging 
from the beamed ceiling, a fireplace with a 
feeble, meager fire burning. Mr. Arm¬ 
strong’s name was lettered on a door that 
led to his private sanctum—he himself had 
not yet arrived. Perched at the highest 
desk, his long thin legs twisted around the 
rungs of his stool, sat John Lang, the clerk. 
When Ginger entered, he was hunched over 
a ledger, biting the feathers on a quill pen, 
his chin sunk in his cravat, his eyes gazing 
dejectedly at one of the dusty windows. 
H is bottle-green coat hung in limp tails, 
and his whole attitude was one of discour¬ 
agement. 


GINGER’S NEW JOB 153 

“ How do you do? ” said Ginger, closing 
the door and taking off his hat. 

“ Oh, it’s Master Ginger? ” The clerk 
looked around with a start. “ Ready to go 
to work, are you? ” 

“ Yes, I’m all ready.” And Ginger pulled 
off his greatcoat and scarf. “ Where shall 
I hang these? ” 

“ There—in that closet-” John Lang 

pointed with his quill. “ There’s a spare 
nail.” 

He frowned morosely while Ginger 
opened the door, which he had not noticed 
before, due to the darkness of the wall into 

which it blended, and piled his things on a 

» 

rusty iron hook. He saw another door with 
a glass upper part, very dirty, through 
which he looked at another office where two 
clerks bent over books. The door was prob¬ 
ably closed for greater warmth. 

“ Now bring a stool up here and I’ll show 
you what you’re to do. Master says as how 
you can figure? ” 



i54 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Yes, I can figure.” 

Ginger willingly set to work, and found 
no difficulty in following the tutelage of the 
clerk. Mr. Lang had a laborious and 
roundabout way of explaining things, and 
went at everything in the longest and most 
involved manner he could devise; but he 
made himself reasonably clear, and Ginger 
had nothing to complain of except his un¬ 
accountable sulkiness, and the too apparent 
fact that he disliked his new co-worker 
heartily. The truth was, as Ginger per¬ 
ceived before any great length of time 
passed, that the poor clerk was exceedingly 
jealous of Ginger, and considered that his 
own field of duties was encroached upon 
and his position perhaps threatened by this 
new clerk. Ginger was sorry for him, yet 
he could not but think that John Lang was 
a man of small abilities, and had now risen 
to his highest capacity. 

Ginger went at his work with the greatest 
enthusiasm, spurred on alike by interest in 


GINGER’S NEW JOB 155 

his task, and the ardor of his desire to raise 
himself to a higher position. 

“ This is different from trimming 
shrubs!” he thought exultantly, as he 
dipped his long quill into the pot of ink. 
“ Wouldn’t Lop roll his eyes if he could 
see me now? I wonder if I look the same 
—I don’t feel much like the old Ginger on 
the Kingston wharf.” 

Bending over his books in the drab light, 
he put in his first day as Mr. Armstrong’s 
assistant clerk. 

With his prime ambition of some day 
owning a ship, Ginger kept his ears and 
eyes open, and let pass no opportunity by 
which he could listen to conversations, or 
ask questions, all with the aim of learning. 
This resolute activity made a much stronger 
impression on Mr. Armstrong than the boy 
was at all aware of; he did not suppose him¬ 
self noticed by his employer, who spoke to 
him seldom, except when assigning him 
some piece of work or sending him on an 



156 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

errand. Mr. Armstrong was taciturn by 
policy as well as by nature, and was not in 
the habit of disclosing emotion, or of giving 
any hint as to his thoughts and opinions; so 
that while Ginger hoped he was filling his 
new position with satisfaction, he was in 
reality the object of keen observation. Obed 
Armstrong fully realized two concurrent 
facts; one that he was growing old, and the 
other, that his business was steadily increas¬ 
ing. He foresaw that within a few years, 
should all continue in the present tenor, he 
would need a partner to carry on the work 
he had built up by himself. Mr. Arm¬ 
strong’s success was largely due to his 
shrewd judgment of character; his own 
principles might be open to censure, but he 
knew how to value worth in others. He 
saw in Ginger every evidence of intelli¬ 
gence, activity, and laudable ambition, com¬ 
bined with a certain firmness and steadiness 
of temper gratifying in so young a lad. Gin¬ 
ger could be of use to Mr. Armstrong and 


GINGER'S NEW JOB 157 

still cost the latter very little. By attaching 
the boy to him while young, the employer 
could cultivate a loyalty and interest that 
would be of the highest value. The day 
might conceivably come when a partner 
could be found in the humble clerk, and 
Mr. Armstrong foresaw that Ginger could, 
in the meantime, perform many services for 
him at slight cost—always a prime consid¬ 
eration with him. 

Now that Ginger had stepped from 
under-servant to clerk, he found that his 
friendship with Persis had arrived at a dif¬ 
ferent plane. They could talk together now 
with more freedom than before, since they 
were no longer mistress and servant. 

“ How’s the office? ” Caleb would ask at 
the end of the day, and Miss Liddy would 
always warn him about catching cold from 
the drafts down there. 

“ I know Mr. Armstrong don’t mend his 
windows,” she said dryly. 

Being so near the water rather recalled 


158 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

the days at Kingston. In his noon hour, and 

4 

when he was sent on errands, as he fre¬ 
quently was, Ginger had time to linger on 
the docks and make friends with the sailors. 
One such noon, he leaned against a pile of 
empty crates and watched the endless activ¬ 
ities of incoming and outgoing vessels. 


CHAPTER XII 


SECRET TRADE 

A VOICE at his elbow hoarsely remarked: 

“ Watch them green lubbers on that India 
brig! They rig like they was all one- 
handed! ” 

Ginger observed the old tar who spoke, 
with a sudden curiosity. His voice, unmis¬ 
takably, was that of one of the two mysteri¬ 
ous men Ginger had overheard leaving Mr. 
Armstrong’s house that night so many 
months ago. It was more than six months 
since he had heard that voice, but he had 
thought of the conversation several times, 
recalling the whole incident as it had im¬ 
pressed him; and Ginger had a good mem¬ 
ory for faces and voices. There could be 
no mistake, he felt sure. 

“What vessel are you on?” he asked 
curiously. 


159 


160 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

The sailor pushed his shiny black hat still 
farther back on his head. 

“ Silver Wing ” he replied. “ That one 
out there to leeward—next the whaler-” 

“ Are you one of her crew? I thought I 
knew them all when she left here last trip.” 

“ I shipped aboard at Madagascar, where 
they lost a man; she’s a treat to the eyes; 
trim as a bird—ain’t she? ” 

“ Yes, she surely is.” 

“ She’s the nicest piece of sea-timber I’ve 
sailed for a good long while.” 

“ Have you ever shipped out under Mr. 
Armstrong before?” Ginger put the ques¬ 
tion as carelessly as he could, hoping to find 
more clues, if clues there were, to that long- 
past conversation. 

“Yes,” answered the sailor readily, still 
watching with a disgusted eye the hermaph¬ 
rodite brig whose men all seemed so clumsy 
and obviously new to sea life. “ I was on 
the Amanda Jane last two years, that run 
back and forth ’tween Africa and-” he 




SECRET TRADE 161 

stopped short and looked at Ginger for the 
first time, apparently. “ Thinkin’ of ship- 
pin’ afore the mast, lad? ” 

“ No—I’d like to ship some day, but I’m 
too busy with other things right now.” 

“Well, I expect you’ll do better by 
stickin’ to land.” 

After a moment’s thought Ginger said: 

“ I’m working for Mr. Armstrong; I 
think he’s letting me have a good chance to 
learn the business.” 

“ Hmm! Well, if he’s got a mind to it, 
he’ll make a thorough ship-owner of you. 
He don’t do things by halves, nohow.’’ 

“ Didn’t you find that last trip to Africa 
a failure? You had to jettison a lot of 
cargo, didn’t you?” Ginger was thinking 
of his office records. He had checked off 
a big loss due to a storm. 

The sailor shifted his hat to one side, and 
still farther back. 

“ Old man were mad,” he said, “ when he 
heard about it—never see a man so mad in 


i 6 z JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

my life, when Cap’n told him about it—I 
was standin’ close, when old man come 
aboard and found it out.” 

“ Well, of course it couldn’t be helped, 
though, could it? Or did Mr. Armstrong 
think you ought not to have lightened 
weight so much as you did?” 

“ Glory, but he raged up and down, and 
said we’d oughter run away from the Brit¬ 
ish crusier that was arter us; but we couldn’t 
beat her, not with twice the sail we had. 
She’d ’a’ said she had a right to search us, 
and what could we have done? Old man 
said the curse of Heaven was on us, and I 
don’t know what he didn’t say.” He 
frowned and continued to watch the work 
around him. 

Ginger looked rather blank for a mo¬ 
ment. What did running away from a 
British cruiser have to do with throwing 
away cargo in a storm? And what could 
Mr. Armstrong mean about the “ curse of 
Heaven ” ? That was surely an odd phrase 



SECRET TRADE 163 

to use, no matter how angry—and then a 
sudden, almost sick feeling overcame him. 

“ Did you—do you like that kind of busi¬ 
ness?” he asked, speaking cautiously, 
scarcely daring to admit the suspicion that 
seemed so clear. 

“ Me? No, lad, I don’t much—but 
they’re only blacks. Can’t regret the ones 
that’s gone, when there’s thousands of ’em 
waitin’ to be run in.” 

Ginger had heard enough, and he walked 
away to think by himself. 

So Obed Armstrong was a slave-runner! 
Ginger remembered the talk with Zed and 
Joel and he had heard many stories of this 
illegal trade; how the poor natives were 
chained into gangs in Africa and marched 
from their native inland jungles to the coast, 
where they were bought and packed into 
the holds of vessels and shipped to the slave- 
markets, in spite of the laws prohibiting 
their import. He had heard, too, how 
sometimes the unfortunate captives were 


164 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

flung overboard in order to keep the vessel 
from being caught red-handed. 

He shivered to think of it. The callous 
indifference of the sailor—but then, aboard 
ship, the captain’s word is law, and the men 
had no choice but to do as he ordered, re¬ 
gardless of their own feelings. 

a So Mr. Armstrong was angry!” 
thought Ginger grimly as he strode back to 
the office, realizing in the midst of his re¬ 
flections that he was late. “ I’m glad he 
isn’t yet so lost to honor as to be unable to 
feel for the wholesale loss of who knows 
how many blacks. But in all his talk about 
the curse of Heaven on the captain and 
crew—he forgets to call it down on himself. 
Then this is the meaning of the conversa¬ 
tion I heard! Those sailors were talking 
about slaves, and Mr. Armstrong’s desire 
for gold that leads him into this trade. It 
sounded that way, all right, but I didn’t 
want to think it. Now I know it’s true. 
Doesn’t he make enough in honorable trans- 


SECRET TRADE 165 

actions? These goings-on don’t appear on 
the books, but still he does a large coffee and 
sugar trade with the Indies.” 

Ginger had a strong desire to avoid seeing 
Mr. Armstrong or speaking to him, and 
happily there were few occasions on which 
either was necessary. But as he sat on the 
high stool and worked, the visions of those 
ships in torrid waters, laden with their 
human cargo, would come before his eyes, 
and he would lower his pen and wonder at 
the hardness of men’s hearts—nothing very 
new to wonder at. 

“ Church must be doing me good,” he 
told Persis with amusement, one Sabbath 
afternoon after he had been attending morn¬ 
ing service for over a month. “ I’m decid¬ 
ing to be honest and upright, and I feel full 
of righteous indignation when I find out 
that anybody has lied or stolen or done 
something like that.” 

Persis laughed in satisfaction. 

“You had good instincts before, but I’m 


166 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

convinced that regular church attendance 
helps to confirm them and bring them out 
better.” 

“ Probably you are right—anyhow, I like 
to listen to the sermon, and I like to think 
over what is said. Different points come 
back to me through the week, and I turn 
them over in my head and make up my 
mind about them some way or other.” 

“You’re an independent thinker, aren’t 
you? I’m glad you don’t take your opinions 
ready-made, all set out like the pattern for 
a dress. Your principles will be much 
truer if you see for yourself their reason and 
cause.” 

“Very true, Miss Fount-of-Wisdom. 
I-” 

“Now, Ginger-” 

“ I was complimenting you. Don’t you 
like it? ” 

“ It sounded rather false. I’m not pre¬ 
tending to be a fount of wisdom, or even a 
brook, or even a little rill.” 




SECRET TRADE 167 

“ Merely a raindrop? I think you wrong 
yourself.” 

“Now, Ginger!” 

“ Now, Persis! ” 

“ O dear, you are such a tease! But it is 
so hard to keep boys on a serious subject for 
more than a few minutes! I was talking 
with my friend Janet Spear the other day, 
and we both agreed that it is something in¬ 
eradicable in their constitution. Girls can 
be much more profound.” 

“ I disagree with you heartily. Girls can 
never think or talk of anything but new 
bonnets and parties and false hair and gew¬ 
gaws.” 

“ Indeed, you don’t know anything about 
it, Master Ginger! You have never heard 
young women converse together, so why do 
you dare pass such a judgment, just because 
you’ve heard some men say that? I believe 
I’ll take back what I said about your being 
an independent thinker.” 

“ Oh, I beg of you! That would be aw- 


168 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

ful!” declared Ginger in tones of great 
tragedy. “ I am willing to stand corrected 
and believe that young ladies never discuss 
any subject lighter than the felicity of a 
righteous life or the sermons of all the emi¬ 
nent divines-” 

Persis shook her head at him. 

“ You are hopeless. I shall invite you to 
drink tea with me this evening, but I warn 
you that I may ask you whether I shall line 
my new hat with blue or pink sarsenet; and 
when you have given me your opinion, I 
shall discuss the shipping laws with you.” 

“ I’m vanquished! You’d better trim it 
with pea-green sar—what do you call it? 
And I’ll lecture you on navigation from the 
business angle, and you can tell me the dif¬ 
ference between general and particular av¬ 
erage and what F. A. S. means, and the 
first three marine shipping laws, and— 
and-” 

“ That’s enough,” laughed Persis. u You 
wait! Just wait!” 




SECRET TRADE 169 

As he talked with her, Ginger wondered 
how she could be so different from her 
father—she was everything that was gen¬ 
erous and warm-hearted, her father so 
coldly calculating in all except what related 
to her. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SILVER WING SETS SAIL 

ALTHOUGH he tried to discover more con¬ 
cerning his master’s secret shipping, Ginger 
found out nothing, and he remained in ig¬ 
norance of the extent to which Obed Arm¬ 
strong was carrying his illegal practice. 
Ginger suspected that he was not doing this 
all alone, but that he was sharing his guilt 
with two or more partners. Of course, he 
could not prove to himself that this was so, 
but certainly, Mr. Armstrong had many 
conferences with a certain group of ship¬ 
ping men, always of a semi-secret nature, 
conducted behind locked doors and in low 
voices; and Ginger saw him, on one occa¬ 
sion, transfer a large sum of money to one 
of these men, of which he had no account 
in the books he kept. 

170 


THE SILVER WING 


171 

“ I wonder,” thought Ginger, “ how he 
would like his daughter to know that he is 
a slave-runner? And she a member of a 
society that is working for the freedom of 
the black man, too! ” 

Here, for a time, Ginger meditated in 
some mental confusion as to his own duty. 
Should he make known what he had 
learned? This business was against the 
law. 

11 In a way, it’s none of my affair,” he 
mused, “ and it would certainly ruin my 
prospects in life! My master would prob¬ 
ably have me shanghaied for my pains. Be¬ 
sides, come to think of it, I haven’t the 
faintest proof to back up my statement, sup¬ 
posing I made it. Sailors and captains, 
naturally, would swear I was lying, and my 
story would only make trouble for me and 
do no good to any one. I may as well put it 
out of my mind, so long as I have nothing to 
do with his underhand plans. If I were 
being used as his tool, that would be dif- 


172 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

ferent, but he conducts these little trading 
ventures without consulting his office staff. 
I’ll be quiet, but I’ll keep my eye peeled 
for a sail, as the seamen say.” 

So time went by, and if Ginger did not 
forget what he had so accidentally discov¬ 
ered, his knowledge slipped into an unused 
corner of his mind, where he seldom 
thought of it. No more mysterious or en¬ 
lightening conversations occurred, and no 
more conferences, at least to his knowledge, 
between Mr. Armstrong and the men whom 
Ginger suspected. For a while, he was sure 
that Mr. Armstrong must have abandoned 
this trade, for Ginger checked off full car¬ 
goes from every vessel, and found no pos¬ 
sibility of a ship-load from Africa having 
slipped in unawares. Slave-ships became 
a far-off memory, and business went on in 
its usual orderly way. 

In only a few months, Ginger felt that he 
had learned a great deal. He did not give 
up his evening studies entirely, although he 


THE SILVER WING 173 

had completed almost all the education Per- 
sis could give him. 

“ It’s too bad,” she told him, regretfully, 
“ that I’m not a boy. I should be able to 
teach you so much more. The proper ac¬ 
complishments of a young lady are not ex¬ 
actly suitable for you. I have taught you 
everything now except how to play on the 
pianoforte, how to work samplers and net 
purses, how to draw, and how to practise 
correct deportment. Oh, yes, and French 
—my teacher at school said I had a very 
accurate pronunciation. Shall we begin 
French? ” 

Ginger’s zeal for knowledge was fully 
equal to Persis’s ambition to teach, and ac¬ 
cordingly, he started on the rocky road of 
French verbs, although he could not con¬ 
ceive of any particular use for them. Be¬ 
sides this, he studied works on navigation, 
and with the Armstrong library at his com¬ 
mand, he somehow found time to read a 
number of histories and books on general 


174 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

literature. He had a taste for reading and 
gained both pleasure and profit from even¬ 
ings spent in the library. He and Persis 
had deserted the kitchen in favor of this 
room, where, surrounded by books and can¬ 
dles, before a glowing fire, they could pur¬ 
sue the path of learning undisturbed save 
for the click of Miss Liddy’s knitting 
needles—the housekeeper liked to sit with 
them, although she spoke seldom except to 
praise her dear Persis’s knowledge or to 
encourage Ginger to “ keep right on ahead.” 
The room was delightfully quiet and homey 
with a big table to spread their books and 
papers on, and the pleasant candle-light 
over all. 

Mr. Armstrong kept an observing watch 
on Ginger, and the result of his careful 
scrutiny displayed itself when Ginger had 
worked a little over two years in the office. 
He had not chafed in this groove, although 
groove it was, as he had done while doing 
chores in the garden and kitchen. He did 


THE SILVER WING 


175 

not suppose it possible that he would be ad¬ 
vanced for several years, and his delight 
may be imagined when he learned that a 
new prospect awaited him. 

When Mr. Armstrong called him into the 
small inner office which was full of ships’ 
models and charts and maps and dust and 
cobwebs high up in the corners, Ginger’s 
thoughts were far from another promotion. 
H is mind was busy with the prospect of 
going fishing with Caleb the following 
afternoon, and he assumed, in an absent 
way, that his employer had some errand for 
him, as usual. 

“The Silver Wing sails in forty-eight 
hours,” Mr. Armstrong began in his cus¬ 
tomary abrupt way of plunging into the 
heart of the matter at once. “ I want you 
to go with her, in company with my super¬ 
cargo, Mr. Hamill. Can you leave every¬ 
thing as it should be, and be ready in time? ” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Gone was all thought of fishing—here 


176 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

was something that he had not even 
dreamed of! 

“ I have instructed Mr. Hamill,” con¬ 
tinued Mr. Armstrong in his short, clipped 
way, “ to explain everything to you, and you 
are to accompany him for the sole purpose 
of making yourself acquainted with all that 
he does. You will have an advantage by 
going with Mr. Hamill, as he is leaving me 
next year to set up in business for himself 
in Boston. When he leaves my service, it 
is possible that I may make you assistant to 
whomever I take on in his place. Of course, 
you will be very young, but if you come up 
to my expectations, your future is assured. 
I realize that I am advancing you at an 
unusually rapid rate, and that I shall be 
putting you in a position of trust and re¬ 
sponsibility at a pretty young age. Consid¬ 
ering your youth and education this is the 
more remarkable, but men no older than 
you, and with no more advantages, have 
risen by their own boot-straps before this.” 


THE SILVER WING 


177 

“ I assure you, sir, I am more grateful 
to you than I can say! ” began Ginger, but 
Mr. Armstrong raised his hand for him to 
be silent. 

“ I understand,” he observed, “ that you 
have been acquiring some little knowledge 
of the French language?” 

Persis again! 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Ginger, “ I began to 
study it some time ago, but I’m afraid I’m 
not very proficient at it.” 

“ Well, I know that you understand it 
fairly well. I have need of a man who can 
get along in that language, as it helps down 
in the Indies. If you fail to learn as I ex¬ 
pect you to, or show an inability, due to 
your youth, to fill the position I have for 
you, there is still plenty of time ahead. Lack 
of will or industry I cannot pardon, but I 
do not expect you to display the wisdom of 
a man in all things. For my own sake, I am 
willing to advance you rapidly, because it 
suits my situation, as I have explained to 


178 JAMAICA “GINGER” 

you once before. You already know that 
the Silver Wing sets her course for the West 
Indies. She will probably load cargo from 
Jamaica, your old home; but the destination 
can mean little to you. I am giving you 
plenty of notice for what small preparation 
you will need, and a new clerk takes your 
place in the morning.” 

Again Ginger tried to thank him, but 
Mr. Armstrong merely shook his head. 

“Your labors are sufficient thanks,” was 
all he said. 

Ginger left the inner office feeling as 
though he could fly, so light and happy were 
his thoughts. 

“ I’m of! on a ship again with a better 
prospect than ever! ” 

Adventure called, and the memory of 
warm tropic seas assailed him. And he was 
to go on his own favorite Silver Wing! He 
astonished John Lang by slapping him on 
the shoulder and asking him if he didn’t 
think the world a great place. He con- 


THE SILVER WING 


179 

tinued to whistle and grin all the afternoon 
without saying another word, which caused 
the worthy clerk to bite his pen and gaze at 
Ginger in perplexed amazement, shaking 
his head now and then as if to intimate a 
very ill opinion of such high spirits. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE SLAVE-RUNNER 

AFTER his Northern stay, Ginger found 
increased delights in the warm tints and 
colorful life of the Islands. Everything 
was as he remembered, only intenser, 
brighter. Each crowded harbor with its 
blue waters and green island for back¬ 
ground, was a fresh joy. The sun seemed 
unbearably hot, and he supposed that was 
because he had grown acclimated to New 
England. After the monotonous sea voy¬ 
age, land was welcome in any guise, but 
doubly so when it brought back so many 
memories—and always the anticipation of 
Jamaica, the last port of call. 

Mr. Hamill, the supercargo, was an el¬ 
derly gentleman of a seemingly reserved, 
dignified character. He talked little and 
seemed to pass his days in inward reflection. 

180 


THE SLAVE-RUNNER 181 


His eyes, which were small and set close 
together, had a far-away look, as though his 
meditations were of an important and ab¬ 
sorbing nature. He displayed no animation 
at any time except when actually discussing 
business, when he became alive with a tense 
get-to-the-bottom-of-it air, displaying a 
keenness and acumen that well recom¬ 
mended him to take charge of Mr. Arm¬ 
strong’s affairs. Ginger thought him a very 
shrewd man, and respected his ability; but 
he could not like him, and he suspected that 
Mr. Hamill returned the feeling. Al¬ 
though the man could not be said to show 
any active dislike, either in word or action, 
Ginger was convinced, as their voyage pro¬ 
gressed, that they would never get along 
well together. 

Once, as they were sailing out of Haiti, 
Ginger exclaimed over the beauty of the 
scenery—the rich tropic green, the blue of 
the sparkling sea, the white town set amid 
cascades of flowers. 


i 82 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ Huh! ” grunted Mr. Hamill scornfully. 
“ There’s more to do on this trip than ad¬ 
mire fancy scenery, young man. Being sen¬ 
timental don’t win far in this world. You’ve 
got to be hard, hard as steel, if you want to 
get ahead.” 

Ginger was nettled, and he was going to 
retort that there was nothing sentimental 
about admiring the view, when he thought 
better of it and held his tongue. 

“ It’s all very fine to be hard,” he thought 
to himself, “ but I don’t intend to get so 
steely I won’t know a thing in the world 
except grubbing for money.” 

On another occasion, they were on land 
at one of the hot, fragrant little island ports, 
and a poor lame black, crossing the dusty 
road, did not get out of Mr. HamilPs way 
fast enough to suit that gentleman. He 
kicked the slave and said, “ Watch out for 
your betters, you lazy dog! ” 

Ginger’s bright face darkened. He had 
always been taught to regard slaves as a lit- 


THE SLAVE-RUNNER 183 

tie lower than the rest of humanity, but 
Persis had talked to him of the society she 
belonged to, where they planned some day 
to make every one free and equal. Without 
a word, Ginger stooped and helped the poor 
old man to his feet, for he had been knocked 
into the dust. He stammered out his grati¬ 
tude in some strange mixed dialect, but as 
some of the words were French, Ginger 
caught enough to know that he was being 
blessed and thanked. 

He and Mr. Hamill then went on, and 
although the latter said nothing, Ginger saw 
that he held a very ill opinion of the boy for 
his action. He made several slighting ref¬ 
erences to u womanishness,” and “ softness,” 
but Ginger—with much difficulty—man¬ 
aged to contain his temper. 

u He thinks I’m a weak-kneed coward, 
does he?” Ginger told himself angrily. 
“ Well, he needn’t think he’s anything to 
brag about, himself! ” 

He realized, without being able to put it 


184 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

into words, that it took more real manliness 
for him to pick up the negro than it did for 
Mr. Hamill to knock him down. 

“ I’m glad we won’t have to sail together 
on more than one trip,” he thought, leaning 
over the ship’s rail as they slipped out of 
Santo Domingo and set sail for Jamaica. 
“ We don’t come out in the open and quar¬ 
rel, or anything like that, but there’s a fric¬ 
tion between us. I shouldn’t be at all sur¬ 
prised if he’d been a pirate in his early days, 
for he has a rascally look, sometimes, to me; 
his quietness and the pompous airs he puts 
on when we go ashore don’t strike me as be¬ 
ing natural. Mr. Armstrong picks his men 
well, however, so I shouldn’t complain. If 
I think Mr. Hamill a rascal, there’s no 
knowing what he thinks of me.” 

Ginger did not allow this little drawback 
of personal dislike to interfere with a de¬ 
sire to learn all that he could, and he kept 
faithfully at Mr. Hamill’s heels, wherever 
the latter went, asking innumerable ques- 


THE SLAVE-RUNNER 185 

tions. Mr. Hamill answered readily 
enough, and seemed willing, in a grudging 
way, to show off his knowledge of naviga¬ 
tion laws, foreign and domestic trade, and 
the like. As they neared Port Royal, their 
first stop in Jamaica, Ginger took the op¬ 
portunity to avail himself of all possible 
knowledge regarding Jamaica’s trade. He 
knew a great deal already through his har¬ 
bor life at Kingston, but Mr. Hamill was 
able to add much, especially regarding the 
laws, to what he knew. 

“ There are more laws than are needed, 
all over the world,” Mr. Hamill told him, 
in a voice of cold disfavor. “ We could do 
better business on half the number.” 

Ginger was surprised. “ Do you think so, 
sir? ” he asked doubtfully. “ Don’t you 
think we need a great many regulations? 
That is, honest men do not, I suppose, but 
there are so many crooked people that we 
must be ready for all their tricks.” 

Mr. Hamill squinted, a habit he had, 


186 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

which gave him a still more unfavorable 
appearance in Ginger’s eyes. 

“ If it were not for the laws, we’d all be 
honest men,” he replied dryly. “ Now take 
this Anti-Slave Importation Act that’s been 
in force since 1807. What good has it done 
America? Not a bit. The only result of 
it is, that we have to sneak the blacks in 
instead of shipping them aboveboard and 
in the open. There’s more now since the 
cotton-gin came in than there ever was be¬ 
fore, when there was no law against fetch¬ 
ing them in.” 

“ Why import them at all?” demanded 
Ginger. “ Why not abide by the law? 
Money can be made in other ways than by 
buying and selling poor human beings. 
Even if they are heathen, they are our fel¬ 
low creatures.” 

Mr. Hamill squinted still deeper. 

“ Such squeamishness and womanishness 
doesn’t get a man on,” he answered. “ Let 
women and girls talk about humanity and 


THE SLAVE-RUNNER 187 

what not if they will, but men must think 
of business first.” 

“ You will not win out in the end by that 
sort of conduct,” warmly asserted Ginger, 
now fully convinced that his opinion of Mr. 
Hamill had been none too strong. 

“You missed your calling, didn’t you? 
You’d ought to have been a preacher.” 

Ginger opened his mouth to make an 
angry retort, but checked his rising temper. 
There was no use in bringing on a quarrel. 
It was plain that they could never think 
alike. 

“ Young man, I’m speaking plainly and 
for your own good. Mr. Armstrong doesn’t 
forget the men who fail him, and if you 
disappoint him after he’s given you this 
chance you’ll ruin your whole life.” 

Ginger felt himself grow cold all over. 

“ What, sir, has this well-meant warning 
to do with our present conversation?” 

“ Just this: if you entertain foolish no¬ 
tions about slaves, you may as well jump 


188 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

over the rail now and be done with it. 
You’ve started on a voyage you can finish 
two ways, for if you don’t like the looks of 
the cargo we’re taking out of Jamaica, you 
needn’t think you’re going to be told to run 
along and remember not to tell. Oh, no. 
We don’t take risks with wharf-bred young¬ 
sters’ tongues.” 

And with this Mr. Hamill clamped his 
jaw, went back into his customary reserve, 
and strode away. 


CHAPTER XV 


GINGER MAKES UP HIS MIND 

Ginger's thoughts were in a turmoil, and 
what he felt strongest he could not tell, ex¬ 
cept perhaps anger. He would have liked 
to fight Mr. Hamill then and there, and he 
stood watching him as he walked away with 
a black expression unusual on his sunny 
face. Ginger had a quick temper, but he 
also possessed a large measure of self-con¬ 
trol, and what is more important, the desire 
to exercise it. After a struggle he managed 
to put aside most of his anger and consider 
as coolly as possible just what kind of posi¬ 
tion Mr. Armstrong had imposed on him. 

“ I knew Mr. Armstrong had been in the 
slave-smuggling game, and I knew he was 
hard and calculating. In a way it’s my own 
fault if I find myself here, but he should not 

have sent me on a trip like this without giv- 

189 


1 9 o JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 


ing me a chance to say whether I would or 
would not have anything to do with such 
traffic. At this late date, I can take my 
choice, and either keep my mouth closed 
and learn a new angle to the business of his 
trade, or decide to quit—and then what? 
Probably be sent overboard with a knife 
in my ribs, or hit on the head by some con¬ 
venient accident, if Mr. Hamill’s words 
mean anything; and he isn’t the man to talk 
nonsense. I’m not suffering from any self- 
deception if I figure out the worst, with a 
man like Captain Brade at the head of the 
vessel, and this warm-hearted supercargo 
at his elbow.” 

Ginger thrust his hands into his pockets 
and marched back and forth, glancing off 
at the horizon occasionally, now dreading 
to see the land which a half-hour before he 
had watched for so eagerly. He thought 
of the ships that made the long sail to 
Africa, where slaves were captured, or 
bought from the marauding Mohammedans 



MAKES UP HIS MIND 191 

and stowed aboard to be brought here to 
Jamaica, whence they were parcelled out 
to the States. 

“ Mr. Hamill can’t bully me into staying 
with a company that does business like this! 
Probably he does not believe I have much 
backbone — 1 womanish,’ am I? He’ll re¬ 
ceive a little surprise one of these days.” 

Ginger’s first impulse was to go to Mr. 
Hamill and tell him he would have no more 
to do with the outfit; but he had scarcely 
taken a step in the direction of the cabin, 
whither the supercargo had gone, when pru¬ 
dence intervened and suggested a less dan¬ 
gerous and hasty course. 

“ There’s no use dashing madly into the 
lions’ jaws,” he told himself sensibly. 
“ While I’m here aboard on the high seas, 
with all power over my actions given to 
Captain Brade, I’d only get myself into 
trouble uselessly; swimming to the nearest 
island doesn’t appeal to me at this distance. 
If I can only figure out the way Mr. Hamill 


i 9 2 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

will reason. If I keep still, he’ll take it for 
granted that I have decided to abide by his 
kind advice. I don’t believe he’ll give me 
credit for standing out against the terrible 
power of my employer. He doesn’t start 
conversations very often by himself, and I’m 
sure I won’t have any more to say to him 
unless I have to. If my idea is correct, I 
can land myself at Port Royal without any 
trouble—and once on land, I believe it will 
be to my best interest to leave this crew 
in a big hurry and head for some safer cli¬ 
mate.” 

From this point, Ginger’s plans were 
necessarily hazy and unformed, but that did 
not trouble him just now; he would take one 
step at a time, the better to be sure that each 
step landed him in safety. Far from home 
and subject to the law of the ship, Ginger 
was fully aware of his precarious position. 
Captain Brade was not the man to stand for 
any nonsense. Ginger was too sensible to 
think it cowardly to be discreet, and wish- 


MAKES UP HIS MIND 


193 

ing, as he did, that he were in a position to 
tell Mr. Hamill without delay what he 
thought of him and his associates, he never¬ 
theless kept to his course of silence. When 
he and Mr. Hamill met at mess, not a word 
was exchanged between them. Captain 
Brade seemed to notice nothing amiss in the 
silence, always being too much absorbed in 
eating and remarking on the state of the 
sky, which now promised a storm. Ginger 
immediately betook himself on deck after 
eating, and standing by the wheel, kept a 
lookout in the direction where land would 
first be sighted. 

The glass was falling rapidly, and he 
thought he detected a cloud on the horizon, 
when the man aloft gave out the cry, “ Land 
ho!” And Ginger knew that the distant 
blur must be Jamaica. A real cloud, mean¬ 
while, was appearing, and that with a ra¬ 
pidity which promised the threatened wind 
and rain before the crew would have time 
to furl the sails. 


i 9 4 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

“ All hands! ” was called, and even to the 
cook, carpenter, and steward, all below hur¬ 
ried up and sprang into the rigging. Gin¬ 
ger went below when the first spatter of 
rain came down, for he was not dressed to 
stand a wetting. The storm beat the sea 
into mountains of engulfing waves, and not 
until dawn did it die down, although even 
then there was a strong gale and a heavy 
sea. Ginger enjoyed his own reflections; he 
scarcely slept through the long night, with 
the creaking sounds of the ship and the 
pounding of water in his ears, and, most of 
all in his mind, the looming up of an un¬ 
certain future. 

“ I’m through with Mr. Armstrong,” he 
repeated to himself. “ What am I going to 
do now? ” 

Gone were the days when he had been 
content to loll in the sun and exist in per¬ 
fect ease so long as he had enough to eat, 
the minimum of clothing, and shelter. The 
young scamp who had waited that morning 


MAKES UP HIS MIND 195 

for the Silver Wing to take him from 
Kingston had somehow disappeared in the 
warm past that lay associated with tropic 
days and nights and a general disinclination 
for work or serious purpose. That idler on 
sun-blazed docks had imperceptibly become 
the boy who lay now in his bunk, gloomily 
trying to piece together his cherished fu¬ 
ture, despondent because it seemed as 
though his dreams would have to be re¬ 
modelled on a much smaller scale. 

“ I wanted to own a ship just like the 
Silver Wing ” he reflected, “ and I used to 
think about sailing to foreign lands,—India 
and China and Java and the different ports 
the sailors talk about. But now, how can 
that ever be? According to my friend Mr. 
Hamill, if I decide to back out of this un¬ 
dertaking, Mr. Armstrong will not only dis¬ 
pense with my services to himself, but he 
will see that I am useful to no one else. 
Perhaps Mr. Hamill exaggerates matters, 
hoping to throw a scare into me so I’ll be 


196 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

all the quieter. But I don’t want to bank 
on possibilities. If I know that the Silver 
Wing is a slave-runner, that knowledge is 
dangerous, and something will be done to 
close my mouth—such as sinking me to 
Davy Jones’ locker, for example. How¬ 
ever, I’m not going to be such easy prey, if 
I know my way about in this world. It’s 
a time for me to be cautious and use my 
wits.” 

Bracing himself with such reflections, 
Ginger felt a little more optimistic, and was 
able to sleep at last. 

The storm had entirely abated by morn¬ 
ing, and again the white sails curved against 
blue sky, and sunlight flickered in dazzling 
reflection on every bit of metal. 

“ But we’re not making for Port Royal, 
are we?” exclaimed Ginger to the mate, 
who was scanning the shore, a mile or so 
away, through the spy-glass. 

The man did not answer for a moment, 
but apparently having viewed all he cared 


MAKES UP HIS MIND 197 

to, dropped the glass from his eye and 
glanced at Ginger. 

“ Orders was changed, back at Santo Do¬ 
mingo. Didn’t Mr. Hamill tell you?” 

“ The last I heard, we were headed for 
Port Royal,” Ginger replied shortly. 

Orders at Santo Domingo? There had 
been letters there, waiting for the Silver 
Wing, and one of them had been from Mr. 
Armstrong, sent ahead by a direct vessel 
which had reached there before the Silver 
Wing, cruising slowly about among the Is¬ 
lands. Ginger had not seen the letter, and 
Mr. Hamill had mentioned it only casually, 
with a few references to certain business 
orders which it contained. 

“ Now I understand,” thought Ginger. 
“ Mr. Armstrong, probably, had not de¬ 
cided that this vessel was to carry slaves 
on the return trip, or more likely still, he 
had not completed some negotiation or other 
which would provide the slaves—no know¬ 
ing just what. At any rate, I may now give 


198 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

him credit for at least not sending me into a 
trap, as I thought before. Maybe he didn’t 
intend to introduce me so suddenly to his 
secret trade—I’ll give him the benefit of the 
doubt.” 

This shrewd guess, by the way, happened 
to be true, although Ginger, of course, did 
not know it certainly until long after. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE HIDDEN LAGOON 

GINGER stood watching their approach 
to land, too much absorbed in the question 
of his flight to remember the mate, who was 
using the glass again. 

“ See that lagoon? ” the man pointed sud¬ 
denly. “ You can’t see the lagoon, exactly 
—it’s more like a bayou—see that dark 
opening in the green? That’s where we’re 
heading.” 

“ There isn’t any town in sight,” observed 
Ginger, who saw nothing save green ver¬ 
dure, tangled trees above a limestone cliff. 
Yes—there was the break that marked the 
hidden anchorage. 

“ No—there’s a town a ways back, but 
that won’t trouble us any. The blacks are 
all waiting here, and we’ll just slip ’em on 
without any notice and haul for home.” 

199 


200 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

Ginger turned aside, thoroughly dis¬ 
gusted. 

“ I’ll watch my chance, and make for that 
town,” he thought, realizing that he must 
keep his wits about him and not let his mind 
wander. It would not be long before he 
would be ashore, and urged by the neces¬ 
sity for action, he went below. There he 
took the little money he possessed, in a small 
wallet, and wrapping it in a handkerchief, 
fastened it inside his shirt; he made sure 
that he had his pocket-knife and watch, and 
put on his best suit, with the thought that 
perhaps he should be forced to sell some of 
his clothing, and he might as well realize 
all he could. 

“ I’m a beggar now,” he laughed, “ or 
will be soon, for I have very little money, 
and just this watch I received for Christ¬ 
mas. I ought to be able to get a lot of food 
for these brass buttons on my coat, if I offer 
them to some Jamaican. A good green 
broadcloth coat—I wonder how much I 


THE HIDDEN LAGOON 201 


should expect for it? Or for these calfskin 
boots? I haven’t gone barefoot for some 
time, but it should come easy to me again. 
Now I’ll go up and face Mr. Hamill and 
that villainous Captain Brade. I only hope 
that Mr. Hamill doesn’t think to ask me 
my opinion of our little game—I’d give it 
to him, and my opinion of him, too.” 

Fortunately for Ginger, Mr. Hamill 
did not seem at all worried as to what the 
boy’s ultimate conclusion must be. 

Ginger appeared on deck and waited, a 
little apart, for the anchor to be dropped 
and the boat lowered, wearing as bland an 
expression on his tanned face as he could 
assume. He experienced a momentary 
worry lest he should not be expected to 
land at all, but this fear proved groundless, 
for Mr. Hamill was faithfully executing 
his duty in showing Ginger all angles of 
Mr. Armstrong’s trade. 

The Silver Wing lay in a wide lagoon, a 
still blue expanse of water with a narrow 


202 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

opening, with limestone cliffs and dense 
forests, curving on all sides, that cut off the 
view of the ocean. Long ferns and trailing 
parasitic vines, decked with ornate flowers, 
drooped from the leaning trees and dipped 
into the water; the cries of birds and the 
whir of insects were the only distinguish¬ 
able sounds. The air was full of humid 
fragrance, and the tang of the sea was 
absorbed in the warm atmosphere which 
hung over the tropic growth. It was a soli¬ 
tary harbor, deep enough to float a vessel 
the size of the Silver Wing, and concealed 
as though made for such a purpose as the 
one on which they came. An ideal ren¬ 
dezvous for buccaneers, thought Ginger, 
and very probably once so used. Jamaica 
had formerly received many a pirate on her 
shores. 

“ Don’t they keep a lookout? ” demanded 
Captain Brade, irritably. “Why aren’t 
Maynard and Keep here to meet us? ” 

Scarcely had he spoken, when from out 


THE HIDDEN LAGOON 203 

of the impenetrable tangle of leaves and 
flowers, a rowboat magically appeared. 
Ginger would have thought it had floated 
off the land and been rowed through the 
forest, but he knew that a stream or inlet 
lay hidden somewhere. The boat was 
rowed by two negroes, their heads tied in 
colored bandanas, their black backs and 
shoulders bare, gleaming in the sun as they 
pulled away from the shadows and made 
for the Silver Wing. Three men sat in the 
boat, their high hats and conventional coats 
and vests, as seen from the deck of the ves¬ 
sel, looking strangely out of place in that 
barbaric wilderness. Shouts passed back 
and forth. 

“Good day, Hamill!” one of the men 
called in a stentorian voice, while still some 
distance away. “ Any fair news from 
home? ” 

This man, Ginger perceived, wore gold 
earrings, and had a heavy black beard and 
mustache. He looked more in keeping 


204 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

with the surroundings than his fellows, who 
might have been ordinary law-abiding mer¬ 
chants. 

“ How’s the great ivory trader? ” Mr. 
Hamill shouted back. 

“ I’ve left that, unless it’s black ivory, you 
mean,” was the response. 

Ginger was expecting the men to come 
aboard, but Captain Brade spoke a few 
words to the supercargo, then gave the word 
to lower the boat, and down it went, and one 
by one, the Captain, Mr. Hamill, Ginger, 
the mate, and two sailors climbed in. 

Ginger looked dubiously toward the 
shore—tracking his way through the Island 
until he landed at the nearest port, was not 
a very inviting prospect; it might be ad¬ 
venturous, but Ginger was too sensible to 
be affected by false glamour. 

The two boats came together, and more 
greetings were exchanged. 

“This is Master Wade, Armstrong’s 
clerk,” introduced Mr. Hamill to the three 


THE HIDDEN LAGOON 205 

men, who were regarding the youth with 
evident surprise. “ He’s here to learn how 
we do things, as Mr. Armstrong has a 
strong mind to bring him up in his busi¬ 
ness and advance him to something useful. 
He’s a bright lad, if he does have some 
foolish notions.” 

“ Stick by Mr. Armstrong, boy,” said the 
man with the earrings, heartily, “ and you’ll 
never regret it. Glad to see you along. 
Now let’s be getting on, Hamill, if you will. 
We were a little slow in coming down to 
meet you, but we’ll make up for lost hos¬ 
pitality when we reach the plantation. Get 
along, you niggers! Pull those oars, dogs! ” 

They shot ahead, the boat from the Silver 
Wing a few yards in the rear. Almost to 
the very mouth of the river which was to 
be their course, Ginger could not detect the 
exact point where they were to leave the 
lagoon; then the shadow of an opening ap¬ 
peared, and bending low to avoid sweeping 
boughs while creepers caught and trailed 


206 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

from the lifted oars, they slid into the com¬ 
parative gloom of the forest. Where the 
sun could penetrate through the close- 
woven canopy, it struck gold and green 
lights on the undergrowth; orchids looped 
in delicate festoons, beautiful enough to be 
their own excuse for living on other plants; 
tree ferns swayed their airy fronds as a sea- 
breeze passed overhead; an iguana crawled 
out of sight at the approach of the boats. 

“ Now is the time to keep my eyes wide 
open,” Ginger reminded himself, leaning 
forward and scanning the country through 
which they passed. “ I wonder if there are 
any paths to that town the mate spoke of? 
I shouldn’t see them from here, though, and 
this country looks perfectly wild. We must 
be headed for some large plantation; my 
best chance, I think, will come when we 
have arrived. I may be able to slip away 
into the woods and make off as fast as I can 
—better still, if I could only manage to con¬ 
ceal myself somewhere near by, until they 


THE HIDDEN LAGOON 207 

are through searching for me, as they will 
surely do. I don’t see any but the slimmest 
chance for me to break away, but I’ll take 
any risk rather than go back on a slave- 
ship, sharing in this work—even in a passive 
way.” 

Ginger set his teeth and waited. He was 
realizing more than ever the trap into 
which he had been thrust, but his temper 
was thoroughly roused, and he stubbornly 
refused to see failure. 

The jungle-like growth grew thinner, the 
stream wider; larger trees appeared, and 
they passed clearings studded with stumps, 
where lumber had been cut down. Then 
on both sides of the stream burst the daz¬ 
zling light of a clear sky, and fields of 
sugar-cane spread out in all directions. 
Ahead lay more trees, and from their well 
laid out aspect, Ginger concluded correctly 
that they surrounded the houses of the plan¬ 
tation. 

“ Almost there,” Mr. Keep, one of the 



208 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

men in the first boat called. “ We’ll have 
plenty to drink and eat in a hurry.” 

Ginger watched the approach to the 
house with the feeling of a man about to 
plunge into icy water. There it was, a large 
white dwelling, festooned under great heaps 
of bougainvillea and climbing roses, set 
back of an ill-kept lawn of Bermuda grass. 
Slaves clothed in ragged scraps of cotton 
waited on the landing-place, pigeons flut¬ 
tered through the air, dogs barked, the low 
tumble-down roofs of the slave quarters 
were seen back of the house. The negroes 
on the landing had a sulky, hang-dog air. 

“ How long are we going to stay here? ” 
Ginger inquired. “ Aren't we going to load 
right away? ” 

“Yes,” answered Mr. Hamill. “We’ll 
stop for some refreshments, and discuss 
business a little. The gang is all chained 
and ready—we’ll sail by nightfall.” 

“ But not with me,” thought Ginger as 
the boat bumped against the landing. 


CHAPTER XVII 


GINGER ESCAPES 

GINGER walked toward the house, be¬ 
tween Mr. Hamill and the man with the 
earrings, who was Mr. Maynard, the owner 
of the sugar plantation. The other men 
followed close in their wake, and Ginger 
had the feeling of being hemmed in on all 
sides. 

“ Not that I intend to start running for 
the woods in full view of every one,” he 
thought, “ but I wish a quick chance would 
present itself for leaving me alone.” 

He looked toward the rear of the house, 
wondering where the chained captives were 
kept; but he saw only a few stray negroes, 
miserably dressed, and, even at that distance, 
thin and unkempt in appearance. They 
crossed the wide veranda and entered the 


209 


210 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

cool interior of the house, where Ginger’s 
first concern was to observe that the nu¬ 
merous windows were not very high above 
the ground, and if need be, he could easily 
vault through one of them. 

“ Glad to get in from the sun!” ex¬ 
claimed Captain Brade, mopping his head 
with a silk handkerchief. “ It’s cool in 
here. You’ve not a bad place, Maynard.” 

“ Good enough,” replied Mr. Maynard, 
sprawling into a rattan chair and waving 
his hand carelessly for his guests to seat 
themselves likewise. “ Kind of run down, 
and everything is old and worn. But I’m 
not living in it for the sake of admiring the 
furniture or the beautiful grounds.” 

“ How does the sugar-cane pay?” asked 
Mr. Hamill with a broad wink—the only 
sign of levity Ginger had ever seen him dis- 
play. 

Mr. Maynard laughed heartily, display¬ 
ing gleaming teeth that made him look 
more like a pirate than ever. “ It just about 


GINGER ESCAPES 


211 


keeps us in snuff; you know how the 
money’s earned!” 

They all laughed, and two negro women 
brought in trays with cool drinks and cakes 
and bread and cold meat. 

“ Eat all you’ve a mind to, gentlemen,” 
urged Mr. Keep. “ Our friend Maynard 
here is growing so rich he can afford to 
treat us well.” 

“ I’ve had about enough of this country,” 
said Mr. Maynard. “ It’s better than it was 
on the African coast, but it gets monotonous, 
and I’m ready for a change.” 

“Well, you’ve made enough—you can 
afford to lean back and enjoy yourself,” 
agreed Mr. Hamill. 

“ Not until after the next two or maybe 
three ship-loads, at least. I’ve got a thou¬ 
sand slaves coming in here next month, and 
everything’s arranged to send them out.” 

“ You won’t get a thousand, though,” put 
in Mr. Keep. “ So many always die on the 
way.” 


212 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“Yes, they’ve a steady habit of doing 
that,” said Mr. Maynard, callously. “ But 
there are plenty more where they came 
from. Why, gentlemen, there is a real for¬ 
tune in the African trade for a fellow that’s 
enterprising!” He switched around sud¬ 
denly and looked square at Ginger, who was 
quietly eating and drinking. “ Are you go¬ 
ing to make your fortune this way, young 
sir? We’re the men to show you how! ” 

Ginger did not want to reply, and he 
knew very well that what he would like to 
say would not please Mr. Maynard at all. 
He contented himself with: 

“ I know nothing about it.” 

“I understand that; but you’ll learn,” 
declared his questioner, turning his atten¬ 
tion to the others. 

Ginger need not have chafed so impa¬ 
tiently, for they rose soon enough. His un¬ 
easiness grew, as it seemed to him that Mr. 
Hamill took a perverse interest in placing 
himself at his elbow, but he was as deter- 


GINGER ESCAPES 


213 

mined as ever to escape—more so, if that 
were possible. Would he succeed? He 
wondered over and over, as they left the 
house, once more crossing the veranda and 
coming into the glare and heat of the sun. 
A dirt-path beaten flat by the constant 
padding of bare feet ran from the flight of 
side-steps which they descended, to the 
sprinkle of huts in the rear. 

Two negro men stood in the middle of 
this path, watching the group from the 
house approach. All at once these two 
turned and ran quickly out of sight among 
the huts. 

“What’s the matter with the dogs?” 
muttered Mr. Maynard, frowning. “ Sulky 
beasts—lately,” he said in a low voice to 
Mr. Hamill, caught by Ginger. “ I don’t 
want it mentioned, but I’m a little wor¬ 
ried -” he broke off, for Captain Brade 

and one of his own men were too near. 

“ They look worse than sulky to me,” 
thought Ginger, who from a life among 



214 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

them could read a negro’s face. “ Every 
one I’ve seen so far has had an injured, re¬ 
sentful expression on his or her face. I be¬ 
lieve they are ready to make trouble.” 

Again he gazed alertly around him, tak¬ 
ing in the position of the cane-fields and the 
forest and the river. Absorbed in this, he 
missed the ensuing conversation between 
the supercargo and Mr. Maynard, and was 
surprised at being addressed by the latter. 

“ Master Wade, you can accompany my 
overseer with the gang to the ship, where 
you are to check off the number that goes 
aboard—I don’t think you can get them all 
in, although Mr. Hamill here says there’s 
more stowage on the Silver Wing this trip 
than there was last trip, when she had other 
truck aboard; but cram them as tight as you 
can, and if there’s any left, we’ll keep them 
over for the next trip.” 

“ Why can’t some one else do that? ” ex¬ 
claimed Ginger. “ It ought not to be my 
duty. I sailed only to watch how Mr. 


GINGER ESCAPES 


215 

Hamill does the business, not to take an 
active part myself.” 

“ According to Mr. Armstrong, you were 
to make yourself useful when possible; that 
is what he instructed me. We have some 
papers to sign, and we’re anxious to hurry 
this business. It would take too long to 
send Captain Brade or the mate or myself— 
you don’t want to shirk, do you? ” 

They had come to a halt, and Ginger 
faced Mr. Maynard coolly. 

u I won’t have anything to do with your 
slaves,” he stated. 

There was a moment’s surprised silence. 
“ D’you think you can back out now? ” 
snarled Mr. Hamill, dropping for the first 
time his dignified pose. “You young 
whippersnapper! We don’t stand for non¬ 
sense like this, I tell you!” 

u You’d better see which side your bread 
is buttered on,” advised Mr. Maynard. 
“ Don’t be a fool, lad. You can quarrel 
with Armstrong when you get home, but 


216 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

this isn’t the place to get out of what you 
don’t like.” 

“ I told you once, and I mean it. You’re 
all crooked, and I want nothing to do with 
you.” Ginger set his jaw decisively. 

Mr. Maynard’s face darkened, and the 
others all started to talk at once, some urg¬ 
ing Ginger to agree—Keep was one of 
these—and the captain loudest in impatient 
advice to “ throw the boy in irons and have 
done with him.” 

The supercargo grasped Ginger’s arm 
and shook it, waving his forefinger under 
the boy’s nose. 

“ You do as you’re bid,” he shouted, “ and 
this is the last time I’ll ask! ” 

“ Drop my arm, sir,” cried Ginger an¬ 
grily, wrenching free. “ I’m not one of 
your slaves! ” 

“ He’ll have to be put in irons,” said Mr. 
Maynard decisively. 

The captain made a threatening move¬ 
ment, and Ginger backed away. 


GINGER ESCAPES 217 

“Look there!” he cried, pointing sud¬ 
denly at the house, and taken by surprise, 
every one turned his head. Ginger had 
long legs, and he made the most of them; 
he was already several yards on his way to 
the woods, when his flight was perceived. 

“ Rogue! ” bawled out the captain in his 
booming voice. “ After him! ” 

Ginger saw a quick vision of himself in 
irons in the dark hold of the Silver Wing, 
and increased his effort, trusting as a last 
hope to his superior lightness and speed to 
get him out of sight. The green under¬ 
growth already brushed him, when a med¬ 
ley of the weirdest shouts and cries he had 
ever heard burst out upon the air, and the 
whole plantation rang with pandemonium. 
Before he could stop himself from looking, 
Ginger had turned his head, and hope 
leaped within him. The pursuing men had 
halted uncertainly, all intent on the scene 
behind them, Ginger forgotten. 

The slaves had risen! 


218 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 


Black men and women were running to¬ 
ward the group, brandishing sticks, staves, 
stones, any kind of weapon that they could 
lay hands on. A terrible clanking and 
rattling of chains rose from some hidden 
place, accompanied by savage yells and 
shrieks. Captain Brade pulled out a pistol, 
and Ginger knew that the other men were 
armed, too. But he did not stay to watch 
the contest, for he would be mistaken for 
one of the oppressors. 

“Now for it!” he panted, and knowing 
only that the nearest town lay somewhere 
inland, and that he must get away before 
either side won, he kept on through the hot 
density of the wilderness. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


BACK IN KINGSTON 

Aunt Mally, who was sitting placidly 
in front of her little cottage, threw her 
hands in the air, and cried: 

“ Lawd hab mercy on us all! Ef it ain’t 
Auntie’s Ginger! Ma honey chile, what in 
de world is de matter? Look at dem 
clo’es! ” 

“ H’lo, Aunt Mally,” greeted Ginger 
cheerfully, if wearily, while she treated 
him to a warm embrace and several loud 
smacks on each cheek. “ Your no-account 
boy has turned up again, you see. Why, 
hello, Lop!” 

Attracted by Aunt Mally’s loud exclama¬ 
tions of greeting, the mulatto boy had ap¬ 
peared in the shade of the doorway, a chunk 

of bread in one hand, and a pig’s foot in 

219 


220 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

the other, his mouth stuffed with both, 
which he forgot to chew as his jaw dropped. 

Ginger slumped down on the broad stone 
doorstep, and leaned back against the 
wall. 

“ I think I’ve walked across the whole 
Island,” he declared listlessly, “ or almost.” 

“ Wait an’ I’ll bring you a nice cool drink 
and somethin’ to eat! I know you is hun¬ 
gry-” and Aunt Mally hurried indoors 

as fast as lameness and habitual indolence 
would allow. 

“I jes’ can’t believe it’s you!” declared 
Lop, swallowing his food and finding his 
tongue at last. “ I thought you was in New 
England, a-workin’ for old man Arm¬ 
strong.” 

“ I was,” replied Ginger, “ but now I’m 
not.” 

Ginger was a bedraggled sight. He was 
covered with dust and dirt where he had 
slept on the ground, his shirt the color of 
mud, its once starched and frilled ruffles 




“Ef it ain’t Auntie’s Ginger!’’—P age 2i3 













BACK IN KINGSTON 221 

dangling limply. Gone was the broadcloth 
coat, the vest, and the calfskin boots—all 
exchanged along the way for food. His 
fine beaver hat he had managed to keep, 
fearing sunstroke, and it reposed grandly 
above the tramp-like aspect of the rest of 
his attire. 

“ I just want to lie down and sleep for¬ 
ever,” he announced. 

“ Land, then you’re the same Ginger you 
always was,” laughed Lop. “ C’mon inside 
where’s cool and tell us what you’re a-doin’ 
in this rig? ” 

“ What are you doing here? ” asked Gin¬ 
ger, dragging himself to his feet and enter¬ 
ing the familiar, dusky jumble of Aunt 
Mally’s house. 

“ Beggin’ a meal offen your mammy as 
usual,” cheerily responded Lop. “ Set 
down, stranger! Welcome home! ” 

u Chile, I nebber did expect to see you 
no mo’ ! ” Aunt Mally was saying, with 
much head-shaking, as she got a meal to- 


222 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

gether. “ An’ I’se missed you quite a bit, 
too, Ginger.” 

“ That’s why I come over here to cheer 
her up,” put in Lop, with a comical wink 
at Ginger. 

“Yes, you no-’count, lazy good-fer- 
nothin’—all you does is eat!” 

Food and drink heartened Ginger con¬ 
siderably, and he began to feel more like 
himself. 

“ I’ve made a mess of everything,” he 
told them. “ Not I, either, but Mr. Arm¬ 
strong put me in a position-” 

“Tell it from the beginnin’!” inter¬ 
rupted Lop. “Them’s pretty good clothes 
for a bond-boy, ’specially if you was workin’ 
for Armstrong, and whatcha doin’ in Ja¬ 
maica? ” 

So Ginger began at the very start, and 
told them all about his life in Salem; of 
how he learned through Persis’s help, and 
of how Mr. Armstrong decided to give him 
a chance at something worth while; and 



BACK IN KINGSTON 223 

then of the trip on the Silver Wing, of the 
knowledge that they were going to carry a 
cargo of slaves, and the subsequent adven¬ 
ture at the plantation. 

“ And I’ve just tramped and tramped 
since,” he concluded, “ not caring much 
about where I went, only I knew you’d take 
me in, Aunt Mally, and give me time to 
think about the future. Once I got a ride 
in a team, but I’ve done nothing but walk 
the rest of the trip; and after a year spent 
in sitting on a stool bent over a desk, I’m 
not in the best trim for such a lot of exer¬ 
cise all at once. Nearly every place I’ve 
come through I’ve been stared at as if I 
were a queer animal such as people had 
never seen before, and I guess I do look 
kind of funny, marching along with a fine 
hat on my head and a lot of ruffles on my 
dirty shirt, and no shoes or coat! One place 
they wanted to arrest me as a runaway; I 
don’t know what they thought I was run¬ 
ning away from, as I don’t look much like 


224 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

a sailor; but I gave an officer my watch, 
and he decided I was harmless so long as 
I was leaving right away. So here I am, 
back in good old Kingston! ” 

“That wicked Massa Armstrong had 
orter be killed! ” cried Aunt Mally. “ He 
ain’t treated you nowise right a bit! An’ 
jes’ to think ob you standin’ up befo’ all 
dem men de way you done! ” 

Lop shook his head in a mystified man¬ 
ner. “You sure went crazy about work! 
Learnin’ all them books and what not, with¬ 
out havin’ to—you didn’t used to be like 
that, Ginger. I know I’ll never leave Ja¬ 
maica. Work must be ketchin’ in the 
States.” 

“ Yes, and after all my efforts, look at me 
now.” Ginger put his hand through a rent 
in one cuff. “ I’m sort of worried about 
what Mr. Armstrong is going to do when 
he finds out what’s happened. He’s some 
kind of a great-uncle of mine, and my em¬ 
ployer. I don’t know just what rights he 


BACK IN KINGSTON 225 

has over me. None, I hope. But he can 
do so much just through influence-” 

“ Now, Ginger,” interposed Aunt Mally 
heartily, “ you ain’t a-goin’ to worry none 
about dat, leastways not till you is all rested 
up. Nobody don’t need bother you, an’ you 
kin sleep an’ eat all you is a mind to. Jes’ 
wait and do all your worryin’ later.” 

“ It’ll be quite a while before old man 
Armstrong kin hear about all this rumpus,” 
said Lop, “ and when he does, it’ll be some 
more time before the news kin git back here 
to Kingston. Besides, maybe them men 
back at the plantation was all killed— 
prob’ly was, with all them niggers after 
’em. That means some more time, don’t 
it?” 

“No, because the Silver Wing was an¬ 
chored there, and the men aboard would 
soon find out what had happened, and 
they’d make for the nearest port, which 
would be Falmouth; then it wouldn’t be 
so long before Mr. Armstrong knew it all.” 



226 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 


“Well, I guess you’re right. Anyways, 
you’d better do as Aunt Mally says.” 

“ I’m going to, and I don’t need to be 
urged, either. Where’s my old bed, Aunt 
Mally? I never thought I’d be back in it 
in three years, when I bound out for 
seven! ” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 

The following day found Ginger his 
usual self, cheery and optimistic. After 
breakfast and a thorough cleaning up, he 
settled himself on the doorstep, while Aunt 
Mally took her habitual station in an old 
chair, half in and half out of the door. 
Through the screen of palm-trees he could 
see the roadway beyond the garden, and a 
string of burros trotting by. 

“ Here’s dat no-’count nigger,” sniffed 
Aunt Mally. “ I jes’ knowed he couldn’t 
keep away long.” 

Lop swaggered down the flower-choked 
path and plumped himself cross-legged in 
the grass. 

“ Mornin’, Ginger! How’s the boy? 

Got callouses on yo’ feet? ” 

227 


228 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ I certainly have. I’ve had enough 
of walking for a lifetime.” 

Ginger surveyed his friend with interest, 
and to all general appearances Lop had not 
changed in the two years since Ginger had 
last seen him. He had shot up tall, but he 
was still lean and loose-jointed and his 
good-humored yellow face and twinkling 
eyes were the same as ever. 

“ You’re not a bit different,” Ginger told 
him. “ I feel as though I’d changed an 
awful lot.” 

“ No, nor I won’t ever be,” replied Lop, 
lazily pulling the petals off of a rose dan¬ 
gling above his head. “ I’ve been a-settin’ 
on the wharf ever since you left.” 

“You don’ tole me dat you worked a 
while las’ month,” declared Aunt Mally. 
“Was you a-tellin’ fibs now, or was you 
a-tellin’ de trufe? ” 

“ Land, yes, I did try workin’,” confessed 
Lop, almost shamefacedly. “ Prob’ly I was 
thinkin’ of you, Ginger, when I let myself 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 229 

in for a job o > work down at Mr. Marks’s 
store. I must ’a’ been crazy, thinkin’ I’d 
enjoy liftin’ watermelons and measurin’ out 
fruit all day! One week was a plenty, an’ 
I wouldn’t ’a’ stayed that long only I wanted 
this yaller handkercher here—pretty, ain’t 
it? An’ I bought a good knife, too.” He 
pulled his treasures out of a back pocket 
and displayed them proudly. 

“ That’s a good knife,” Ginger said ad¬ 
miringly, “ and the handkerchief is bright 
enough, isn’t it? Those purple spots re¬ 
mind me of the bandana I left with—do 
you remember the bundle I carried? I’ve 
still got it, with everything I brought ex¬ 
cept the shirt, which I wore out—yes, and 
the figs Aunt Mally gave me.” 

“ Red, wasn’t it? I remember.” 

“ I nebber did think as how I’d miss you 
much,” Aunt Mally remarked all at once in 
her placid way, “ but I guess as how folks 
gets awful attached. I’se thought ob you 
mos’ every day, Ginger.” 


2 3 o JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

“ It’s nice to find I’ve been missed,” 
smiled Ginger. “You didn’t know I’d be 
back to visit you so soon, did you? ” 

“ No,” grinned Lop, “ when you went off 
away from here I thought that was the last 
I’d ever clap eyes on you—I didn’t envy 
you none, settin’ out for the cold the way 
you was! ” 

“ It was pretty chilly at first,” admitted 
Ginger, remembering the chilblains of that 
first winter, “ but I’m accustomed to it now. 
I believe I like the cold winters—snow is 
lots of fun, Lop.” 

“ Maybe, but give me sunshine, an’ lots 
of it!” 

“ I guess I’ve changed a lot,” Ginger re¬ 
marked, as he had before. 

“ Yes, in a way you have,” admitted Lop. 
“ But I wouldn’t have no trouble reco- 
nizin’ you—you’re mostly bigger, that’s all. 
You’ve sure got lots of muscle now.” 

“ I’m just about as tall as I’ll ever be.” 

“ You look the same, only-” Lop 



THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 231 

squinted and rubbed his frizzly head, as if 
in perplexity to express something he saw. 
“ You’re the same, only different.” 

Ginger laughed at this. 

“ I’m tellin’ you,” went on Lop, shaking 
his head sagely. “ Your face don’t look so 
much different, except maybe becuz you’ve 
been washin’ it every day, but you’ve got 
another kind of an expression, someway. I 
guess all that work you talk about’s kinder 
made you change. I sure am glad I stayed 
right here.” 

“Yes, and it looks as if I might as well 
have stuck here, too,” said Ginger. “ I’m 
not any better off right this minute than if 
I had. Well—I suppose I shouldn’t say 
that.” He thought of his schooling by way 
of Persis, and of many other things he had 
learned in Salem. He understood, in a lit¬ 
tle way, what Lop meant when he said he 
had changed in his expression. 

“ Now, honey, I want to know about dat 
Massa Armstrong,” began Aunt Mally. 


232 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

And Ginger had to tell most of his story 
over again, for his audience was full of 
questions and remarks, and the fruitful field 
of his past endeavors could be mulled over 
and over again, a fresh and absorbing topic 
to both Lop and Aunt Mally. They both 
agreed heartily that Ginger had not been 
treated fairly by his employer, and they 
both exclaimed admiringly over the boy’s 
bravery in standing up against those hard 
men. 

“ That wasn’t anything,” Ginger pro¬ 
tested. “ I just wasn’t going along with 
them, that’s all. You know red hair makes 
a fellow stubborn, so they used to tell me.” 

“ My, but yo’ Aunt Mally is proud ob 
you,” Aunt Mally persisted, beaming at him 
from her round black face. 

Lop shook his head—it was all too much 
for him to comprehend. “ But I guess you 
know what you’re doin’,” he would say with 
his flashing grin. 

Salem, with its formal, decorous homes 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 233 

and well-ordered lives, seemed very far 
away. As Ginger sat among fragrant flow¬ 
ers, in the midst of the lazy Island life, the 
three years of New England existence 
slipped away into the distance and left him 
back where he was in the old days, with a 
future as blank now as it had been when he 
never gave it a thought. The illusion of a 
return to the old life remained with him 
several days. He went down to the docks 
with Lop, watching the ships sail in and out 
as he used to before he left Kingston. He 
greeted old friends, his red hair easily rec¬ 
ognized anywhere, although they told him 
he had grown up a good deal and otherwise 
changed in appearance. Of course, every 
one wanted to know why he was back and 
when he had come in, and how he had left 
his tenure of service. Ginger was puzzled 
as to what he ought to say, so he confined 
himself to the fact that he had been pro¬ 
moted by Mr. Armstrong, but that he had 
had a disagreement with him and was 


234 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

obliged to leave his service. No, he did 
not know just what he was going to do yet. 
This explanation was sketchy enough to cre¬ 
ate something* of* a mystery, but he refused 
to go into details, and his acquaintances soon 
gave up questioning him, and accepted his 
return quietly, doubtless thinking that the 
true story would become known in due time. 
If he had had trouble with his employer, 
naturally he wouldn’t want to talk about it. 
And every one knew what a hard master 
Mr. Armstrong was—all their sympathies 
were on Ginger’s side, whatever the trouble 
had been. 

Ginger knew that the slave rising at May¬ 
nard’s plantation would soon be public 
knowledge, and in that event, Mr. Arm¬ 
strong’s connection with slave-running 
would be learned. For his own sake, Gin¬ 
ger thought it better not to say anything to 
expose his employer, since circumstance 
would accomplish that soon enough. The 
information that Obed Armstrong was en- 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 235 

gaged in this trade would excite little notice 
in Kingston, so far as that went, but Ginger 
wanted to keep himself apart from it all. 
He thought often of Persis, and for her 
sake, if for no other, he resolved to say 
nothing. He wished that she might never 
learn of her father’s doings, but he feared 
that such ignorance would not be possible 
forever. She was so kind and gentle that 
it would hurt her—but he knew that she 
loved her father dearly, and probably she 
would find some way to excuse him. Think¬ 
ing of her, Ginger decided that he would 
try to avoid, in so far as he could, saying 
anything at all against his former employer. 

Ginger slipped into the familiar, lazy 
round of existence, the care-free, idle days, 
the lingering sunny hours—and suddenly 
discovered that he was not, could not be, 
contented or happy. 

u Three years is a short time, but it’s fixed 
me for this do-nothing life,” he thought, 
lying in the shade of a logwood-tree and 


236 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

watching a lizard catch flies on the cottage 
wall. “ I must naturally be one of those 
industrious, energetic people who are al¬ 
ways stirring themselves up about some¬ 
thing. I can’t live like this—I don’t enjoy 
it, and what’s more, I’m not going to keep 
it up. It was all right once, but not any 
more. Lop is a good friend, and it’s fun 
to talk to the sailors and all that. But I’d 
like to read a book for a change, or chat 
with somebody like Persis—our evenings 
together were lots of fun.” 

He recalled the beautifully furnished 
mansion, Miss Liddy and Caleb, the care¬ 
fully served meals, the air of refinement 
that breathed through the household. It 
had all made a much deeper impression on 
him than he had ever realized at the 
time. 

“ I’m spoiled completely. I might as 
well realize it now. The thing for me to 
do is to quit lying under this tree and try 
to hunt up a job. I ought to be thankful to 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 237 

take anything, but I’m trained now as a 
clerk—I wonder if there isn’t something in 
an office here in Kingston? ” 

Vaguely, he wanted to go back to New 
England, and he thought in a distant way 
that there were many ports besides Salem 
—there was Boston, for example—where he 
might try to get into the shipping business 
again. That would depend, possibly, on 
Obed Armstrong. If he wanted to black¬ 
ball Ginger, he could very conceivably do 
so, for his name and influence counted a 
great deal all along the Atlantic seaboard. 
This thought was like a dark shadow, and 
he put it out of his mind for the time being. 
In the meanwhile, Ginger felt that he must 
go to work and earn some money. 

11 So I can be independent,” he told Lop, 
who could not see it at all. “ I don’t want 
to live on Aunt Mally any more than I have 
to—you know that’s the way I began to feel 
when I left here to go to Salem. I wanted 
to get out for myself, and it’s what I want 


238 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

now. I’d like to get into some office, where 
perhaps I can have an opportunity to do 
better by and by.” 

Lop scratched his frizzly head wonder- 
ingly. 

“ I b’lieve you’re crazy,” he grinned, 
“ but go ahead. I don’t see why you don’t 
want to stay with Aunt Mally so long as 
she’ll let you, but you’re doin’ this, an’ I 
suppose you knows what you wants. I hope 
you has good luck, but don’t kill yourself 
workin’.” 

“ Don’t worry about that! ” laughed Gin¬ 
ger, slapping Lop on the back. “ I’ll take 
an easy job if I can get one. I want money 
so I can go back to New England if I want 
to, and I shall have to work for that, you 
know.” 

u Go back to that freezin’ place you done 
told me about? Boy, you got awful queer 
notions.” 

“ Maybe I have, Lop. Still, I like 
Salem.” 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 239 

Aunt Mally received the news that he was 
going to look for work with her usual placid 
calm. 

“ I don’t care what you does,” she said, 
“so long as you is happy. You can stay 
here all you is a mind to, but if you wants 
to work, I guess as how it’s good for a per¬ 
son.” And she leaned back in her chair and 
folded her hands tranquilly. 

Thus it came about that Ginger made 
inquiries throughout Kingston for a posi¬ 
tion in some office. Within a month of 
his arrival at Aunt Mally’s doorstep, his 
energy was rewarded, and he went to work 
as a clerk for a trading association. En¬ 
deavoring not to let his setback quench his 
ambition any, Ginger went at his new job 
steadily and willingly. There was nothing 
especially hopeful about it—he was merely 
one of a number of clerks who had charge 
of the simplest routine of the business; but 
he hoped that if he persevered, there might 
be some sort of promotion in the future, or 


240 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

he might hear of something better else¬ 
where. 

“ I can be thankful for this position,” he 
told Aunt Mally. “ If Mr. Whitlock 
hadn’t known me ever since he’d been in 
Jamaica, which is since I was about three 
years old, I’d never have been hired by his 
firm. It’s just a lucky chance and I’m glad 
of it. You see, I’m sort of under a cloud, 
because I haven’t explained to anybody why 
I left Mr. Armstrong’s service. Everybody 
thinks there must have been some kind of 
a row between us, and that I had to leave— 
of course that’s true, but I know it must 
sound kind of queer. I could tell, when I 
asked Mr. Whitlock for this position, that 
he was thinking about that. I told him the 
kind of work I had done in Mr. Arm¬ 
strong’s office, but I wouldn’t say anything 
about why I returned in such a hurry. I 
was afraid he wasn’t going to give me this 
job, but finally he said that he would try 
me out. It’s because he’s known me so long, 


THE OLD LIFE AGAIN 241 

I suppose, and fortunately for me, nobody 
around here thinks very much of Mr. Arm¬ 
strong.” 

What Mr. Armstrong might or might not 
do, became a far-off event. As the quiet 
weeks passed, and Ginger settled into the 
unvarying round of his new duties, he al¬ 
most ceased to think of his former employer. 
Indeed, he deliberately banished from mind 
the memory of his other work. He wanted 
all his energies for the future, and not for 
the past. In due time, the news was brought 
into Kingston of the uprising at the May¬ 
nard sugar-cane plantation, and it was 
known that the vessel had been the Silver 
Wing , and that the mate and one of the two 
sailors who had gone on land with Mr. 
Hamill had managed to escape, and had 
gained their ship at anchor. Apparently it 
was not known that there had been such a 
boy on board, but every one in Kingston 
knew that Ginger had come back. 

Of Persis, however, Ginger often thought, 


242 JAMAICA “ GINGER” 

and the congenial life at the Armstrong 
home he could not help recalling with in¬ 
creased regret. 

“ I want a home like that,” he said to 
himself, “ and I would like to be able to 
make friends with people who read books 
and talk about interesting things, the way 
Persis and I did. Of course, this is a better 
climate, but Massachusetts is a good place 
to live in.” 

Thus the weeks and months slipped by 
in the same regular routine. Ginger got 
along well with his new employer and his 
fellow-workers, and although what he had 
to do was not very inspiring, he plodded 
along fairly contentedly. His dream of 
some day owning his own ships had received 
a severe jolt, but he did not give up the 
idea—he still pictured himself with vessels 
like the Silver Wing at his command—but 
he was beginning to realize how hard it was 
going to be for him to reach his goal. 

Then a letter came for Ginger. 


CHAPTER XX 


ginger's dreams come true 

“ It's from Salem, Massachusetts,” said 
Mr. Whitlock, who brought the letter per¬ 
sonally to Ginger. “ It was sent in my care 
—evidently some one has discovered where 
you are at work.” 

“ Thank you,” murmured Ginger, me¬ 
chanically, as he took the letter. 

He was just getting ready to go home for 
the night—he had been standing at his desk 
putting on his coat, when Mr. Whitlock had 
appeared. The light was fading, and Gin¬ 
ger carried the letter to an open window, 
where the sunset lingered in long bars like 
stained glass. 

“ This is not Mr. Armstrong’s writing,” 
thought Ginger, his first quick fear being 
that it was from his former employer. “ I 
ought to be ashamed of myself,” he added 

243 


244 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

scornfully, breaking the seals and spreading 
open several closely covered pages. “ I 
must be a big coward, all right, if a letter 
can make me feel nervous! ” 

His first thought was for the name of his 
correspondent, and he glanced at the bottom 
of the last sheet. 

“ John W. Eaton, Attorney.” 

John W. Eaton? That was the name of 
Mr. Armstrong’s lawyer—Ginger had seen 
him in the office back in Salem. This must 
be something grave! 

With his mind full of trials, fines, impris- 

i 

onments, and other legal terrors, Ginger 
read the letter, sure that any or all of these 
fears must be threatening him. He read it 
so hastily, with this idea in mind, that he 
could not fully understand just what it 
really meant, it was so utterly different from 
what he had supposed. He read it again, 
this time more slowly and carefully than 
before. 

One sentence loomed above all the others: 


DREAMS COME TRUE 245 

. . . Mr. Obed Armstrong died 

on the twenty-first day of this month, toward 
evening. His mind was quite clear up to 
the time when he lapsed into the final un¬ 
consciousness.’’ 


Persist father dead! Ginger could 
hardly read on fast enough. 


“ Although much crippled by rheuma¬ 
tism, as you know, Mr. Armstrong was very 
hale and healthy for his age, and his sudden 
stroke, illness, and death came as a shock 
to us all. In his last hours, he appeared 
to regret certain courses which he had taken 
in his life, under the influence of the desire 
for money. Of these things, I need speak 
in no greater detail, for you know of them 
yourself. The Silver Wing came into 
Salem just a week before Mr. Armstrong’s 
demise, and we heard what had taken place 
in Jamaica. It will not be news to you, I 
suppose, to learn that the first mate and one 
sailor managed to escape from the uprising 
of slaves and got away to their ship—you 
have doubtless heard of this already in 
Kingston. 

“ It was from these men that we obtained 
the story of your desertion. Of Mr. Arm- 



246 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 


strong’s first anger I need not tell, for that 
is past now. The softening influence of ap¬ 
proaching death, together with a conversa¬ 
tion which he seems to have had with his 
beloved daughter after she heard of the 
business he had been engaged in, changed 
his heart, and I have now only good to relate 
of his final actions—let us trust that his re¬ 
pentance was full and sincere, and that his 
manv errors are atoned for. 

“ As you may guess, Mr. Armstrong’s en¬ 
tire fortune has been willed to his daughter, 
with the exception of various small bequests 
to a number of relatives, among whom you 
have your share. His great trading interests 
are to be taken over by a company which 
will manage them for Miss Armstrong. 

“ Mr. Winters Armstrong, the brother of 
the deceased, has been appointed guardian 
for her, and will head the company which 
takes over the business. I received informa¬ 
tion, just before writing you this letter, of 
your present location with Mr. Whitlock. 
The Esperanza docked yesterday and 
brought news from Jamaica, and as the cap¬ 
tain seems to have been an old friend of 
yours in time past, he was able to tell us all 
about you. Although you have, no doubt, 
found a good situation, I believe that you 
will be glad to resume your old position in 


DREAMS COME TRUE 247 

the office of the Armstrong Company. It is 
with great pleasure that I inform you that 
this was one of Mr. Armstrong’s last re¬ 
quests. In conversation with his brother, 
who was fortunately here from Boston at 
this most critical time, Mr. Obed Arm¬ 
strong expressed his regret for that turn in 
his affairs which had necessitated forcing 
you into a trade which he himself now 
found a burden on his own soul. As a sort 
of restitution to you, as well as because of 
his high opinion of your abilities, he re¬ 
quested that you be taken into the company 
and advanced as rapidly as possible. I 
imagine, Master Wade, that the friendship 
between you and his daughter had some¬ 
thing to do with influencing this decision 
and the earnest desire he showed. . . .” 

Ginger dropped the letter for a moment 
and gazed out at the setting sun. The har¬ 
bor was a sea of orange light, in which 
floated gilded vessels from a dream-world. 
Every sail looked white and cloud-like, 
every mast was touched with the rosy glow 
of sunset. In a little over a week, if sailing 
were fair, the brig Pernambuco would be 
coming into Kingston harbor from Salem, 


248 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

and he was to go home—yes, Salem had 
been home to him! All his hopes and 
dreams were there, and his life, henceforth, 
would be centered in New England. 

“ Good-bye, Jamaica, for good!” he 
wanted to shout out loud. “ I’m going back 
to learn shipping at Salem, and I’m going 
to own my own ships some day, and then 
I’ll come back here to visit! ” 

As joyful as on that other occasion when 
he had received his first promotion, Ginger 
dashed from the building and ran all the 
way to Aunt Mally’s, disregarding the peo¬ 
ple he passed, all of whom stared at him in 
wonder as he raced by. 

“ I’ve nothing but good to think of Mr. 
Armstrong,” he declared excitedly, at the 
end of a warm recital of the letter. “ He 
was a miser and a slave-runner while he 
lived, but he’s gone now, and he was sorry 
for it all on his death-bed—there’ll be no 
more poor blacks starved aboard the Arm¬ 
strong ships! And think of Persis with all 


DREAMS COME TRUE 249 

that fortune—it couldn’t be in better 
hands! ” 

In his enthusiasm, Ginger whirled Aunt 
Mally round and round the room, saying at 
the same time: 

“ I’m going to send you money, Auntie, so 
you’ll be sure to have plenty to live on in 
comfort! ” 

And Aunt Mally panted and kept repeat- 

* 

ing: 

“ Lawsy, hab mercy on de chile! ” 

One week passed, and then once more 
Ginger bade farewell to Lop, and left him 
sitting, as before, on the sunny wharf, wav¬ 
ing good-bye with his perpetual good-hu¬ 
mored smile. 

The Pernambuco was a fast vessel, but to 
Ginger’s impatience it seemed as if she 
crept slower than any garden snail. But 
even the slowest voyage comes to an end, 
and Southern waters were at last left behind. 

Ginger stood on the Salem dock and 
heard the familiar pounding of the tide at 


250 JAMAICA “ GINGER ” 

the green piles—he walked up the well- 
known street—he passed the office, where 
Mr. Armstrong’s name still hung on the old 
sign—he walked under the elm-trees where 
he had often raked the driveway clear— 
he was on the doorstep of the great white 
house, waiting for Miss Liddy to answer his 
knock. 

“Yes, this is home,” he thought, with a 
feeling of satisfaction in his heart, as he 
looked around at the familiar trees and 
flowers. 

If he could have had any doubt as to his 
welcome, it was dispelled when the door 
opened, and he was greeted, not by Miss 
Liddy as he expected, but by Persis. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come! ” she said 
simply. “You don’t belong in Jamaica. 
We need you here, Ginger! ” 


THE END 




































































\ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




Mi 


OOOEHbBflblB 

















































































